A Hinging Moment
by moon-dragon3
Summary: AU fic, what would have happened if Harry was in Slytherin, but this is slightly original. Chap. 18 up!
1. Meeting the Malfoys

In this story, everything happens as in the books up until Harry leaves Hagrid to board the train. Hagrid hasn't told Harry about his parents yet, and Harry didn't meet Draco in the robe shop.  
The platform looked horrendously crowded, and Harry felt himself shrinking back. Oh why did this have to happen to him? Where had Hagrid gone? And where on earth (or beyond, he thought miserably) was platform 9 ¾ ?  
  
And then a tall man with a regal walk and flowing blond hair knocked him out of the way. Harry scooted backwards, but unfortunately his little trick of disappearing into the shadows only drew the strange man's attention further to him. He spun around with a swish of his cloak and looked down his elegant nose at Harry. Harry tried to keep his head up straight and look the man in the eye.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to get in your way" he murmered respectfully. Years of living with the Dursleys had taught him that respect was the best option to placate someone. The blond haired man sneered scornfully and brushed Harry out of the way, muttering under his breath, "Stupid muggles."  
  
Harry's eyes flashed, although he knew that rebelliousness only ever lead to bad things, and he reigned in his temper. And for some reason, the blond man turned around again. This time Harry noticed a blond haired boy with a pointy face looking curiously at him.  
  
"Father, was that. . ."  
  
The man raised a hand, cutting off his son - the resemblance was uncanny - and moved into the shadows. This time Harry cowered back, not noticing the twitch that came over the man's features.  
  
"I do apologise, young man. I thought. . ." he looked Harry slowly from head to toe, and Harry was painfully aware of the baggy and tattered clothes that he was wearing, the smudge of dirt on his nose, the large bruise on his cheek.  
  
"You did appear to be a muggle. This is obviously not the case, though."  
  
He looked pensively at Harry for a moment, and then his expression hardened to become unreadable.  
  
"You are heading for which platform?"  
  
"Nine and three quarters, sir."  
  
"You have a ticket?"  
  
"Yessss. . ." said Harry uncertainly, drawing it out. An elegant hand, encased in an expensive black velvet gauntlet, reached out and plucked the ticket from Harry's unresisting hand.  
  
The older man inspected the ticket, and his face relaxed into a smile.  
  
"I do apologise for my lack of manners. It is of the utmost importance that we keep our world hidden from the muggles, is it not?"  
  
Harry nodded numbly, and then realised that it was not a very polite response, and said quietly,  
  
"Indeed, sir."  
  
"Allow me to introduce myself. Although I suppose you know of our family; we are one of the last pure-blood lines in this country. Lucius Malfoy. And this is my son Draco."  
  
Harry shook both their hands, and replied in kind.  
  
"Harry Potter. It's very nice to meet you."  
  
He looked in confusion as the two Malfoy's eyes widened fractionally.  
  
"You are Harry Potter?"  
  
"Yes sir" said Harry, shrinking further into himself. What if there had been a mistake? What if they were looking for him to tell him to go away, that he wasn't wanted at Hogwarts? What if he had to return to the Dursleys house?  
  
"Oh. Well. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter."  
  
"The pleasure is all mine, sir" said Harry humbly.  
  
Lucius looked at the boy. He was not what he had been expecting; an extremely timid boy with impeccable manners did not fit with the idea of his parents, who had been boisterous and lively. And damn annoying. Potter junior was a complete mess, a large bruise marring his cheek, and messy hair. There was something vulnerable about him, but Lucius had sensed the lick of raw power as he had brushed the boy off, and knew that this was one to be kept as an ally, as close as possible. With any luck Draco should have perceived that too.  
  
"Well, you two had better be getting on the train. I shall expect an owl informing me of how you are doing, Draco. Good luck."  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
"Yes father. Goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye. Wingardium Leviosa" Harry blinked as a light flashed, and his trunk became feather light.  
  
"Thank you, sir"  
  
"Thank you, father"  
  
And with a curt nod, Lucius disappeared into thin air with a 'pop'.  
  
Draco led Harry through the barrier, seemingly unperturbed by Harry's silence.  
  
"Shall we get a seat, Harry. May I call you Harry?"  
  
"Umm. . .yes" said Harry, trying to take in the seething mass of magical people all around him.  
  
"Good. You may call me Draco. Come on. . ."  
  
Draco barged though a crowd, almost knocking a red-haired boy flying, and Harry followed meekly in his wake. Finally they reached a compartment that seemed to please Draco, and he sat down on a seat.  
  
"So" he said, wriggling slightly to ease his back into the plush cushion, "Which wizarding family did you grow up with?"  
  
"I live with muggles" said Harry softly. He looked nervous at Draco's piercing glance.  
  
"Really? What are they like?"  
  
"Oh, they're fine" said Harry, lightly.  
  
"Do you know about your parents?"  
  
Harry furrowed his brow.  
  
"Yes, of course. They died in a car crash."  
  
Draco blinked slowly.  
  
"A car crash?"  
  
"Yes. . .they're a muggle thing. . ."  
  
"I know what a car is!" snapped Draco, making Harry shrink back. "But your parents didn't die in a crash. They were murdered."  
  
Harry looked at him as though he had sprouted a second head.  
  
"They what?"  
  
"They were murdered. Merlin, Harry, you didn't know? They were murdered by a very powerful wizard called Lord Voldemort. He thought they posed a threat to him - he was killing all the non-Pureblood families, but your mother was muggle-born, and Voldemort had to kill your father to get to her. Then he tried to kill you, but somehow the curse backfired, and you killed him. You were only a baby."  
  
Harry looked at Draco, horrified, and the blond haired boy felt suddenly guilty. Harry looked like his world had been tipped upside-down.  
  
"I. . .I. . ."  
  
Choking on his words, Harry fell silent, and leaned forwards so that his shaggy hair covered his eyes, making it impossible for Draco to see what was going on in those green eyes. After about a minute, he spoke.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry straightened up, pale faced.  
  
"I need a drink" he said shortly, and bolted. Draco mulled over what he had seen, looking thoughtfully out of the window. There were a lot of unanswered questions. For one, why was Harry staying with muggles? He should be living in the wizarding world. And why hadn't the muggles, or anyone, told him about his parents? And why did he always draw back when people approached?  
  
The door opened, and Harry came in, still pale.  
  
"You alright?" asked Draco casually. Harry nodded silently, and taking his cue Draco began to talk about other things. They didn't even notice the train start up and pull out of the platform, and were only pulled from Draco's explanation of Quidditch but two boys lumbering in.  
  
"Oh, Crabbe, Goyle" said Draco off-handedly. "I was wondering when you would get here."  
  
"Hi Malfoy" they grunted in synchrony, and sat opposite in silence. Harry looked at them, and quirked his nose up slightly.  
  
"This is Harry, boys" said Draco lazily. The two goons nodded at Harry, and carried on staring open-mouthed into space.  
  
Harry leaned over slightly, and murmered,  
  
"Do you keep them as body-guards, or for the conversation?"  
  
Draco was amazed. Absolutely gobsmacked. He couldn't remember ever hearing someone insult Crabbe and Goyle. His mouth split into a wide grin, and then he began to chuckle. The chuckles increased to full blown peals of laughter, and he clutched his sides as Harry stared in anxious curiosity.  
  
"Yes" he finally managed to choke out, "They don't add much to the decor!"  
  
Harry smiled, a genuine smile, and then began to chuckle as well.  
  
"What?" Grunted Crabbe and Goyle in synchrony, looking up for the first time. Harry and Draco looked at each other, and burst into fresh laughter, as their two meaty companions scratched their heads in confusion.  
  
****************************************************  
  
Much later, as the train approached the school, Draco checked his watch.  
  
"You should get changed into your robes, Harry"  
  
Harry quickly hid his horrified look, and picked up his bag.  
  
"Yeah. Sure."  
  
He headed to the door, but Draco stopped him.  
  
"It's ok. . .you can change in here. The toilets will be full."  
  
This time he knew he didn't miss the panic in Harry's face, although it was concealed very quickly.  
  
"Crabbe, Goyle, you must be hungry" he said smoothly. "Go and buy yourselves something to eat."  
  
Obediently the two boys left, and Harry laughed.  
  
"How do you get them to do that?"  
  
Draco shrugged.  
  
"They rely on me. They wouldn't get very far with the brains they have."  
  
Harry smiled, and looked around uneasily.  
  
"Is there a reason you're so scared of getting changed?"  
  
"No! I'm not scared!" said Harry casually.  
  
And didn't move.  
  
Finally he seemed to realise that he had no choice, and began stripping. Draco didn't watch. Until he saw a flash of red just as Harry pulled on his shirt. He looked around, face expressionless, but Harry was already changed.  
  
"Um, Draco?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How do I put these on?"  
  
Draco got up, ignoring Harry's flinch, and pulled the robes over his head.  
  
"They loop around, like this" he said, and sat down again.  
  
"Oh right, thanks" said Harry, plainly embarrassed, and Draco wondered how to broach the subject of Harry's nervousness. However he didn't get the chance, as the train drew into the station, and everyone began to clamber out of the doors.  
  
The sight of the lake almost took Draco's breath away. The little boats were magnificent, lamp-lit and bobbing in the wind stirred waters. The stupid half-giant boomed for them all to follow, nearly knocking harry flat by clapping his shoulder, and they set off towards Hogwarts, silent to a boy, all wondering what the next years would bring to them at this school. 


	2. The First Day and Potions

Oh yes, thank you AKA talentless for reminding me, in this story, Draco may or may not become evil, but he sees Harry as a friend, so doesn't need to be suspicious or anything. I should have explained that. . .forgive me. And about ending Voldemort's reign of terror, well Draco isn't upset about that, but he doesn't know why either. I think it's because I read somewhere *Daggy!* that Malfoys seek power and darkness rather than evil. I see Harry as being very powerful and dark, but not evil, so the Malfoys are willing to work with him. Hope that made it clear!  
  
Again, many thinks to Diagonalist for forcing me to post it. You have to go and read all her stories, because she is fantastic. Love you xxx  
Draco, Harry reflected, was so calm it was a little creepy. He seemed totally unfazed by everything that happened; although maybe things like talking hats were commonplace in the Wizarding world. It was all so big, vibrant, stunning; he didn't know whether to look at the trestle tables containing more people than he had even seen in his life, or at the ceiling, which was obviously keeping the heat in but looked like the night sky.  
  
"Draco" he whispered, and a pair of grey eyes met his, silently allowing him to ask. "Draco, what's the hat for?"  
  
"Oh, you put it on your head and it sorts you into your House. Do you know about the houses?"  
  
Harry nodded, remembering what Hagrid had told him. But he couldn't see a difference between the houses from what he had seen at the station; the only nice person at all had been Draco. He wondered if Hagrid hadn't been exaggerating a little bit.  
  
"Don't worry" said Draco reassuringly.  
  
"Do you know what house you'll be put in?"  
  
"Slytherin" said Draco proudly. "All my family have been, for centuries." Then his face hardened slightly. "You will be in Gryffindor, Harry. I'm sorry - I will have to victimise and persecute you. It's not. . .not right for people to be friends outside of different houses."  
  
Harry looked at him, expression blank, hiding his deep disappointment.  
  
"Alright" he said flatly. "Alright."  
  
**********************************************  
  
"Malfoy, Draco" read out the prim witch with dark hair pulled back into a severe bun. Draco nodded briefly to harry before languidly stepping up to the platform.  
  
"Come on, Mister Malfoy, we don't have all day" snapped the witch - Professor McGonagall. Malfoy smirked insolently and placed the hat above his head. It barely touched the silvery blond hair before screaming "Slytherin!"  
  
Harry's heart dropped a few metres, and he sagged slightly as other irrelevant names were read out and sorted. Glancing around, he could actually see differences between the houses. For one, they all had different coloured badges on their robes, but there were other differences. As a whole, the Hufflepuffs, in yellow and black, were podgy, round faced and anxious looking. A large proportion of Ravenclaws were bent over books at the table, seeming detached from what was going on. The Gryffindors were mainly glaring at the Slytherins, fingering their gold and red badges with pride, as though they were a higher race, and the Slytherins sneered back. Harry could understand what Draco meant.  
  
He was jolted out of his thoughts by his name being called.  
  
"Potter, Harry"  
  
Little fires of hissing whispers lit up around the room, and Harry felt his face flush. He caught sight of Draco watching him guardedly, and that was the last thing he saw before the hat slipped over his eyes.  
  
* Well well, another Potter. But oh my, you are not like your parents at all. More powerful, if I am not mistaken. . .hmm, and bitter with life. But you are good. I cannot see you falling to the dark. Definitely not a Hufflepuff. Nor a Ravenclaw - you are not so studious. So it is between Slytherin and Gryffindor, young Harry. *  
  
^ Wherever I will fit in. ^ thought Harry. ^ I just want to be where I belong. ^  
  
* Sensible, Mr Potter. Hmm. . .you are brave, no doubt, but by no means foolish. Loyal, but not naïve. It is a tricky choice, but I believe you will find your true friends in SLYTHERIN! *  
  
Harry got to his feet and walked over to the Slytherin table, aware of loud clapping, and the eyes of the Hall on him. Draco pulled him down into a seat, snapping at Crabbe to budge up, and patted him on the back, grey eyes shining. He didn't notice Harry's flinch and soft gasp of pain.  
  
"Well done Harry! Wow, I can't believe it! I'm so glad you are a Slytherin"  
  
Harry smiled, feeling at home here.  
  
"Me too."  
  
But he didn't like the looks he was getting from some people. Several Gryffindors were staring at him, and muttering under their breath, scowling. The Hufflepuffs were ignorant, simply beaming into space, and the Ravenclaws looked curious. But it was the animosity burning in the eyes of one dark-haired teacher that worried Harry the most. The man looked like he wanted to rip Harry into little pieces and stamp on them. Harry tugged on Draco's sleeve.  
  
"Draco, who's that teacher, with the long black hair?"  
  
"Oh, that's professor Snape" said Draco absently. "He's our head of house. Responsible for all the Slytherins."  
  
Eyeing Millicent Bulstrode, who had just been sorted into Slytherin, he missed Harry's groan and slump.  
  
"I'm going to die" he whimpered, his previously high spirits suddenly dampened. "I'm bloody well going to die!"  
  
*******************************************************  
  
"Potter!"  
  
Harry didn't hear the sharp voice. He was busy scribbling down the previous few lines of Professor Snape's speech.  
  
*. . .And even put a stopper in death.*  
  
"Potter!" roared Snape, making the small boy jump nearly out of his skin.  
  
"Y-yes, sir?"  
  
Severus regarded the obnoxious toad through narrowed eyes. Why the hell had he been sorted into Slytherin anyway? His parents were Gryffindors, as were their parents. Well, Potter Senior's parents, anyway. And the boy was part Mudblood. His lip curled in disdain, and he stalked forwards.  
  
"What, may I ask, was so important that you were not listening to your professor?"  
  
Harry edged back in his chair, hating how much this man reminded him of Vernon, in the dark smouldering eyes and acidic words.  
  
(Freak, lazy, worthless)  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I was taking notes."  
  
Snape snatched the parchment and ripped it in two, eyes glittering furiously.  
  
"You will write notes this evening, after your detention with Filch at 7.00 sharp. And I shall expect them on my desk tomorrow morning at 5.00, am I clear?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Yes, sir" he whispered, casting his eyes to the desk. He had wanted this lesson to go well, and he was already in trouble.  
  
(waste of space. . .beat some sense into you. . .suffocate your abnormality)  
  
In the seat next to him, Draco shook his head.  
  
"He really doesn't like you, Harry. That's weird, he's normally really nice to Slytherins, he favours them because they. . ."  
  
Snape had stalked over again, and this time he looked livid.  
  
"Another detention, Potter. I do not expect this sort of impertinence in my lessons."  
  
Draco spoke up.  
  
"It was me talking, Professor. I'm sorry."  
  
Snape snorted.  
  
"Leading your friends astray, Potter? The detention stands"  
  
He swept off, ignoring the whispers of the class and the stares that Harry was getting. Unsure of what to do with his trembling hands, Harry clenched them together hard under the desk, the pain helping to focus him. Draco put a hand on his shoulder supportively, but Harry shied away violently this time, shaking hard. His chair squeaked on the floor, and this time he had really done it.  
  
"OUT!" screamed Snape. "Get out of my classroom this instant!"  
  
His greasy hair flew about his face, and spit came out of his contorted mouth. Harry fled.  
  
(Waste of space. . .layabout. . .deserve every bit of it. . .abnormal. . .never fit in. . .worthless. . .)  
  
Draco watched in a combination of awe and extreme concern. Harry was as white as a sheet, and shivering as though. . .as though he was terrified. Draco couldn't remember Snape having such an effect on even Gryffindors, from what Lucius had told him. But then again, Snape hadn't hated anyone as much as he seemed to hate Harry. Draco would have put money on Slytherin being on minus points had it not been Snape's own house. But two detentions on the first lesson had to be a record. Snape was in a foul mood for the rest of the lesson, and Gryffindor lost 40 points between them, leaving one accident-prone boy called Longbottom in tears.  
  
When the lesson was over, Snape called Draco over.  
  
"How is your father, Draco?"  
  
"He is very well, sir. He sends you his best wishes."  
  
"And of course, you will send him mine when you write?"  
  
"Of course, sir."  
  
"Very good. Now you should be off to your next lesson."  
  
"Yes, sir. Sir?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Do you. . .I. . ." Draco paused. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."  
  
Snape looked at him, eyes seeming to burn into Draco's very soul. Finally he nodded.  
  
"You may of course come to me at any time, Draco, although I presume you are capable of solving your own disputes."  
  
Draco nodded, and left for his next lesson, thinking about Harry.  
  
***************************************  
  
When he reached the charms room, he found Harry already there, calm and composed, and he wondered what had upset him so much in Potions. He was, as Draco had thought, a strong wizard, and picked up all the spells quickly. He rendered the Transfiguration witch speechless by impeccably transfiguring a desk into a pig, thinking that McGonagall's demonstration was for them to do. Finally, after she was convinced it wasn't a fluke, Slytherin were awarded 10 points, and Harry glowed with pride. At lunchtime, harry disappeared and Draco didn't see him until nearly the start of their last lesson, in the library. He was practising charms, levitating a book and lowering it to the floor, and he almost jumped out of his skin when Draco shook him.  
  
"Oh, sorry Draco. I didn't realise what the time was."  
  
"We need to go to flying, you fool. I brought you some sandwiches. What?"  
  
Harry had begun to shiver.  
  
"Nothing. . .just a little cold. Thanks for the food."  
  
(Imbecile. . .fool. . .retard. . .beat some sense into you. . .)  
  
Harry didn't eat much, transfiguring the remains of his sandwich into a napkin (he was quite clearly amazing at transfiguration, whereas his other subjects were very good) and throwing it into the bin on the way out. And then they had their first flying lesson.  
  
"Alright" said the hawk-eyed teacher. "Hold your hand above your broom, and say 'up!'"  
  
Harry's raised up into his hand on the second go, Draco got it on the first. The other students, including Crabbe and Goyle, seemed to be having much more trouble.  
  
"So, have you ever flown before?" asked Draco. "I fly regularly, I learnt when I was young. Hopefully I'll be on the house team - it's unusual to pick a first year, but I do have a lot of experience."  
  
"Harry shook his head. "No, I've never flown before. I think I'll be useless!"  
  
"Well, everyone is at first. It's just a question of. . ."  
  
He was cut off by Madam Hooch's whistle.  
  
"Alright, position yourselves for takeoff. On the count of three. . .one, two, three, take-off!"  
  
The class raised as a wobbly whole, and hovered a metre from the ground. Everyone except Millicent Bulstrode, who had gone too high. She looked down, screamed, and fell off her broomstick, landing with a crunch on the pitch. Immediately Madam Hooch was there, checking her.  
  
"Oh dear. . .it's a broken ankle. . .never mind dear, we'll just levitate you to the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey will have that fixed up in the blink of an eye. . ."  
  
She levitated a whimpering Millicent, and turned to glare at the rest of the class, who had now touched down.  
  
"If any of you fly while I am gone, you will be out of Hogwarts before you can say Quidditch!"  
  
And with that she parted, Millicent hovering in front of her like a grotesque puppet. It didn't take long for a red-headed Gryffindor who Harry dimly recollected as Weatherby or something to begin laughing. Draco flushed with anger, and moved forwards.  
  
"Say that again, Weasley?"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly, and Weasley squirmed. A bushy haired girl tried to pull him back.  
  
"Oh for goodness sake, Ron, don't get into trouble. Imagine if we lost house points!"  
  
"Yeah. . .and we would, not having a completely biased teacher. I mean, did you see the little bastard in potions?"  
  
Weasley's smirking face filled Harry's vision, reminded him of Dudley.  
  
(freak!)  
  
Draco moved forward.  
  
"You do not insult my friends, Weasley!"  
  
Before either of them knew it, Weasley had snatched Harry's Slytherin badge from his chest, and taken off, calling down.  
  
"You're a disgrace to your family, Potter. You're a disgrace to everyone."  
  
Draco felt Harry trembling, and made a mental note to find out why he was so jumpy. Then, just as Weasley threw Harry's badge hard somewhere across the field, Hooch came back.  
  
"RONALD WEASLEY!" she bellowed, "GET DOWN THIS INSTANT!"  
  
Abashed, Weasley descended, toppling of his broomstick very inelegantly and provoking laughs from the Gryffindors, Harry not included. Harry stood looking at the ground, very pale, not noticing Ron being told off, having house points deducted, and being set a detention with Filch for that evening. Not noticing the lesson ending, and everyone heading into the castle.  
  
Draco touched his arm, now expecting the flinch.  
  
"Harry" he said softly. "Harry, look at me."  
  
Harry shook his head, eyes fixed on the ground, and Draco felt a new-found pity growing for this strange boy.  
  
"Harry" he said one more time.  
  
"Leave me alone" relied Harry, his voice choked. "Please."  
  
Draco nodded, squeezed Harry's shoulder, and left.  
  
And Harry stood alone. 


	3. Self Loathing

Harry stared at the slightly moist ground beneath his feet. He was useless, worthless, a waste of space. How could he ever do anything right?  
  
A 'right' person would have got Weasley back for that statement. Would have been sorted into Gryffindor, would have been someone his dead parents would have been proud of. A 'right' person would have dodged in front of Millie to catch her. A 'right' person would have fought back against his relatives. A 'right' person would have not made their head of house angry on the very first day.  
  
A 'right' person would not be so scared of showing his scars to his friends; his family. But Harry had changed quickly inside the curtains of his bed, ignoring the playful teasing of the other boys but feeling totally alone. He didn't know what to do; had little enough experience of the muggle world, less of the wizarding one. And Draco was so mature, so intelligent, he understood everything and it made Harry feel so stupid. And so he stood, as though praying for answers to come out of the ground. But they didn't. There was just mud.  
  
The realisation then hit him that it was totally dark, cold and raining. He had become soaked to the skin without even noticing it, and his dark robes clung to his skin, the cold wind chilling him to the bone. He stirred his leaden legs and moved stiffly towards the castle, uncaring of the fact he had just missed dinner. He ate so little at home he knew he would just be ill if he filled his stomach. But, he thought resolutely, nobody would know. He would be strong and brave like all the other Slytherins. Honestly, everyone's parents hit them when they were bad. He knew; Vernon had told him once. He knew all the things that happened to bad children.  
  
(Well you asked for this, you little freak. . .whore. . .well, what else are you useful for?. . .slut. . .oh god, Potter. . .oh!. . .yes. . .suck it, freak. . .Potter. . .Potter. . .filth. . .good for nothing. . .swallow it, freak. . .)  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Draco caught Harry's shoulder, and Harry actually screamed.  
  
"No! Don't! Please!"  
  
Draco released his hold and looked at his new friend.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you, Harry. I just. . .Merlin! Pomfrey's going to have your guts if she sees you like this!"  
  
He quickly stripped off Harry's cloak and replaced it with his own dry one, and hustled Harry towards the dorms. Harry looked around in amazement as Slytherins of all ages crowded around.  
  
"Merlin Potter, what happened?" asked Flint. Harry just shook his head, teeth chattering. He was quickly amazed by the way the Slytherins worked together though; from what he had heard, they were a bunch of power-craving back-stabbers. Now, they ushered him to the fire. Pansy Parkinson rubbed at his head with a towel, probably with the best intentions, but an older girl pushed her out of the way and cast a drying charm on him instead as Harry winced when the towel raked over several cuts on his scalp. Meetings with the cupboard door. Feeling blissfully warm and dry, he accepted the buttered roll that Draco passed him, and sank his teeth into it hungrily. A dark-skinned girl called Blaise who Harry remembered seeing at the sorting laughed, but not unkindly.  
  
"You look like you haven't eaten in weeks!"  
  
"I know, he's skeletal!" chimed in another boy.  
  
Harry laughed, slightly nervously and shrugged.  
  
"I just have a fast metabolism. I burn off food really quickly" he said casually. It was something he remembered Vernon saying to a visitor who had accidentally caught sight of Harry, and it seemed to work, because Flint changed the subject.  
  
"Harry, we heard about how Severus was with you today in Potions." He paused at Harry's puzzled look. "We can call him Severus in private when we're sure nobody's listening. It's a close knit group, Slytherin, more like a family than any other house. We have to be close, because everyone sets out to victimise us. Anyway, we just wanted to say that we're happy to have you in our house. We've never seen Severus victimise another Slytherin like this, but hopefully he'll stop it soon. If he doesn't, then I'll have a word with him. But don't worry - we're all behind you."  
  
Harry nodded brusquely, feeling a lump in his throat. If only these people knew what he was - how 'wrong' he was. What a  
  
(waste of space. . .freak. . .layabout. . .)  
  
When he finally snapped back into himself, he realised that the attention had left him, and now everyone was reading, playing games, or talking. The firelight played on their features, giving them eerie dark eyes and hollowed-looking cheeks. The sight wasn't frightening though, more comforting than anything. The sense of anonymity made Harry feel safe. Not protected, but safe.  
  
However, he wanted to be alone now. He slipped out of the common room, unnoticed, and headed up to his dormitory. He needed to get changed for bed before anyone else came up, so he quickly stripped and pulled his pyjamas on, just in time, as the second the top rolled down over his torso Draco came in.  
  
"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked.  
  
Harry nodded and forced a smile.  
  
"Lots of work" he said, and laid his books out of his bed. Thankfully Draco didn't press him any further - or at least not for a while. Finally growing tired of his raven-haired friend's silence, Draco stood up.  
  
"Harry, what are you hiding? What's going on?"  
  
"Nothing" said Harry, keeping just the right amount of confusion in his voice. "Except this potions. . .SHIT!"  
  
Draco looked at him.  
  
"My detention!" Harry looked up at the clock. "I have TWO MINUTES!"  
  
And he fled.  
  
*******************************************  
  
When he arrived at Filch's office, he found a very grumpy Weasley waiting outside.  
  
"It's bloody freezing down here, Potter, and it's all your fault!"  
  
*come on, Harry. Be brave.*  
  
"No it's not. I didn't force you to fly."  
  
Weasley glowered, and was silent for a moment. He had just opened his overly large mouth when the door swung open and Filch grinned down nastily at them before sending them to clean the corridor. With toothbrushes. The exertion made Harry feel sick and faint, and when they were finally done and out of the dungeons he collapsed to the floor, not noticing Weasley approach from behind until he felt a sharp kick to his ribs. Pain exploded through his body, and he choked as he felt a previously knitting rib unravel into a thousand shards of metal.  
  
Another kick, and he rolled over to face Weasley, spitting out blood. So much blood. Soaking the back of his shirt, he could feel it. Warm and sticky, clinging to his clothes. God, he hated the feel of old blood.  
  
"Get up, scum" hissed Weasley, and Harry complied, feeling that this was right, this was what he needed. He didn't move as Weasley hit him in the face. Again. Again. His eyes smarted, but he stood stoically, and it might have gone on for longer had a dark figure not approached from down the corridor.  
  
"Weasley!"  
  
Ron paled, and let go of Harry as Snape swept up to them.  
  
"What on earth is going on here?"  
  
"Potter attacked me, sir" whinged Ron. Harry remained silent, and Snape looked at him calculatingly.  
  
"20 points from Gryffindor. Get back to your dormitories."  
  
They fled.  
  
***************************************************  
  
When Harry got back to the common room, everyone was in bed, and asleep, or so he thought.  
  
"Merlin, what happened to you?"  
  
"Weasley"  
  
Draco's pale face flushed with anger, an he clenched his fists, sitting up abruptly.  
  
"You should tell Severus!"  
  
"He knows" replied Harry flatly. "He came down the corridor and saw Weasley punching me."  
  
"And?"  
  
"He took 20 points from Weasley."  
  
"WHAT? You must be kidding! He'd be going for expulsion if it was any other Gryffindor."  
  
Draco looked grimly at Harry.  
  
"This has to change. I'll get Marcus to have a word with him tomorrow morning."  
  
"No! Don't!" exclaimed Harry, without really thinking. "I mean, I have to do those extra notes for him, and I can handle it myself."  
  
Draco looked unconvinced, but eventually nodded and rolled over to sleep after wishing Harry a good night. Harry got up silently when he was sure Draco was asleep, and went down the stairs, armed with his unfinished potions notes and his clothes. He would have to get changed early so that nobody saw him.  
  
(mutilated. . .freakish. . .unnatural. . .)  
  
The potions was hard, and he was desperate to please Snape, so he spent the entire night poring over heavy volumes of books, trying to find information is as much detail as he could. However information was tricky to find, and he didn't understand it very well. His eyes were growing heavy and prickling from tiredness, and eventually he lay his head down to rest.  
  
He was awoken by someone saying his name loudly by his ear. Draco. He blinked, and rubbed his eyes, raising his head and trying to ignore the dizziness it caused.  
  
"Did you sleep down here?"  
  
Harry nodded, and then realised he still had to deliver his notes. And he was considerably late. Snape was in his office when Harry delivered the notes, and was livid. He ordered Harry to wait in his office and read a book while Snape ate breakfast, so Harry did. Diligently. When Snape came back, however, he was fast asleep.  
  
Snape shook Harry roughly, and was surprised when Harry flung himself desperately back, trying to avoid contact. Looking down at the shaking figure on the floor, Snape sneered.  
  
"What are you doing, you fool?"  
  
(fool. . .retard. . .stupid. . .only good for one thing. . .oh yeah. . .)  
  
"I - I'm sorry!" gasped Harry, trying to prevent himself from panicking. "I didn't mean to!"  
  
Confused, Snape sneered again.  
  
"Oh, just get out. You're more trouble than you're worth."  
  
Obediently Harry left, and once he was outside the office, he fled to the toilets, and threw up the little he had in his stomach, the taste of Snape's ire far more bitter than anything he could remember eating from the bin.  
  
"I hate myself"  
  
It was so easy, and so obvious. He repeated the words.  
  
"I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself."  
  
He swung his head forward, revelling in the pain that blossomed over his skull as he smacked it against the door.  
  
"I hate myself" *crack*  
  
"I hate myself" *crack*  
  
"I" *crack* "hate" *crack* "myself" *crack*  
  
And then, tears streaking down his hollowed cheeks, he crumpled to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, and wishing for something to take him away from this place where he didn't belong, didn't fit in, wasn't liked.  
  
"I hate myself" he whimpered, and finally, exhausted by his long night and lack of sleep, he slumped into unconsciousness.  
Alright, thank you everyone for your reviews ( I love reviews. What I'm doing with this story, because it's really Harry/Draco and Harry/Snape (yes, there will be slash, Harry/Sev), is to update each chapter and switch the pairing. So the first chapter was under Harry/Draco, the second under Harry/Snape, this is under Harry/Draco. So updates will be every two days for either camp, make sense? I'm doing this because I think the story should appeal to people in either 'camp'.  
  
By the way, blame Diagonalist for the slash. She's coming after me with spoons if I don't put any in, and I'm scared of her. I will put slash warnings on the appropriate chapters, so if that's not your thing then don't read it, I'll make sure the plot still makes sense. 


	4. More interactions with Severus and impor...

Okay, okay, I've had enough reviews anti-slash for me to change my mind. And, thorough author I am, I forgot Harry was only 11! Lol. So NO SLASH. Therefore I expect lots of reviews from the anti-slashers.  
When Harry didn't show up for breakfast but Snape did, Draco was apprehensive. But assuming, correctly, that Severus had kept Harry in his chambers, he forced himself to relax, and endured the 'conversation' of Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
When Harry didn't come to Charms, Draco began to worry. The worry increased as the first half of the day wore on, until by lunchtime he was fidgeting in his seat, dying for the bell to go.  
  
When he couldn't find Harry in the library, the common room, or anywhere in the dungeons, his worry was converted into full blown panic. It occurred to him that he should tell someone, but who? Certainly not Severus, seeing his animosity towards Harry. Maybe a prefect, or Marcus, if he could find him. Yes, he would look for Marcus.  
  
He charged upstairs from the common room, colliding with a large boy he vaguely remembered as John Derrick.  
  
"Oh! Excuse me, sorry, do you know where Marcus Flint is?" Draco gasped, and then realised that that sort of behaviour wasn't at all fitting for a Slytherin or a Malfoy. Derrick didn't seem to notice, he shook his head.  
  
"Nope, sorry. He could be anywhere. Why did you need him?"  
  
"My friend's gone missing - I can't find him anywhere. I think it was Severus."  
  
Derrick's face darkened.  
  
"Again? I suppose you're talking about Harry?"  
  
Draco nodded, trying to catch his breath, and Derrick nodded.  
  
"Where have you checked? I'll come around with you again - he can't have left the grounds or Dumbledore would know."  
  
"I checked the library and the dormitories, obviously the common room, all the rooms we can access in the dungeons."  
  
Derrick nodded.  
  
"Come on then. Lets check everywhere again. I'm sure he's fine. . .probably just didn't feel like seeing anyone. But better safe than sorry."  
  
They combed the dungeons, checking every classroom for signs of Harry, but with no luck. It was only when Derrick suggested the toilets that they found Harry, slumped in one of the stalls.  
  
"John! He's in here!"  
  
Derrick hurried in, alarmed by Draco's urgent tone of voice, and winced when he saw Harry. There was vomit in the toilet, and a large knot on Harry's head. Draco, however, looked relieved.  
  
"He must just be ill. . .he's been so shaky the last few days, and hardly eaten anything. . .I thought it was nerves or something, but I guess he must have been ill and passed out. Merlin, why didn't I come sooner? Do you think he'll be alright?"  
  
Derrick nodded, and drew out his wand.  
  
"Enervate" he said, and Harry's eyes flickered open reluctantly.  
  
"It's ok, Harry. You're not very well, so we're just going to take you to the infirmary, alright?"  
  
Harry nodded, and wished he hadn't, because the room began to swirl alarmingly.  
  
"C'mon, Draco, give me a hand. And go easy, I don't know how bad that lump on his head is, but you can never be too careful. Come on, Harry. Just get up slowly."  
  
Derrick and Draco grasped Harry's arms, both silently wincing at the way the bones stuck out, and helped him up. The journey to the infirmary was a long one, as Harry couldn't walk very quickly or steadily. Finally, when they arrived, Derrick let him down onto a bed as Draco went to call Madam Pomfrey. She immediately shooed the two of them out, and began examining Harry.  
  
"You must be Harry Potter" she said. "Such a shock, seeing you put in Slytherin! Dear me, that is a nasty bump. How on earth did you do that?"  
  
"Felt sick" mumbled Harry, clinging to the excuse he had heard from Draco. "Threw up, and passed out. Hit my head on the door."  
  
"Oh, you poor dear" said Pomfrey soothingly. "Here, drink this. It will take away the pain. You've got a mild concussion, but you'll be right as rain in after a good nap. Do you want to change into these pyjamas? I'll put up a screen to give you some privacy."  
  
Harry nodded, feeling awful. Why were they being so nice to him? He didn't deserve niceness!  
  
He hadn't planned on sleeping, knowing that it would be futile. However, the second he downed a potion ("Dreamless sleep; Professor Snape keeps a massive stock of it. Works wonders, but it can be a little addictive.") his eyes dropped, and he fell into a deep sleep.  
  
Madam Pomfrey was right. He did feel much better when he woke up, and even more when he remembered that Draco now just thought he had been acting so oddly because he was ill. Now, if he could prevent himself from flinching and hearing Vernon every time people approached him, he would be fine. And nobody would know what a wimp he was, how pathetic. How he was unable to cope with even a little bit of pain.  
  
**************************************************  
  
"May I sit here?" asked Blaise politely. Draco jumped; he had been lost in his own thoughts.  
  
"Yes, of course. Blaise Zabini, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, and you are Draco Malfoy. Nice to meet you."  
  
"The pleasure is all mine" he said, smiling, and she blushed.  
  
"So, how's Harry? I noticed he wasn't in classes this morning."  
  
"Yes, he. . ."  
  
Draco was cut off as Professor Snape swirled into the room, nodding to Draco, who smirked back, and glaring at the Gryffindors.  
  
"We will be doing a practical experiment today. Not that I expect any of you dunderheads to be able to even measure out the ingredients, let alone brew the mixture correctly. Though, for those who possess the aptitude. . ."  
  
Draco smirked again, knowing the comment was meant for him.  
  
". . .anyway, the instructions are in your books."  
  
"What page, sir?"  
  
Snape sneered vindictively at the know-it-all Mudblood - Granger, was it? - and said silkily,  
  
"10 points from Gryffindor for interrupting. Page 231. Well? What are you imbeciles waiting for?"  
  
Blaise headed off to get their ingredients, and Draco caught Snape's eye. The tall man walked quickly over to the desk, and spoke between clenched teeth.  
  
"Did our wonder-boy, our new celebrity, our famous mister Potter, decide that Potions was too lowly for his great talents?"  
  
"No sir" replied Draco, trying to keep calm. "He wasn't well, so we escorted him to the infirmary."  
  
"Well that's another detention he's earned himself. What's that, three in two days? With foolishness like that, perhaps he should have been sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff."  
  
Draco winced at the acerbic words, but said nothing. There was nothing he could say.  
  
*****************************************************  
  
When the lesson was over, Draco returned to the Slytherin rooms, but Harry wasn't there. He went to dinner, and again was forced to talk with Crabbe and Goyle, who didn't leave room for Blaise to come near him. Thankfully, a revolting Slytherin by the name of Pansy Parkinson was also unable to find a space near Draco, so perhaps the two goons did have their use. After dinner, he returned to the dormitories, certain that Harry would be back unless he was really ill - Pomfrey was annoying but a very skilled medi- witch, or so his father had told him.  
  
He was right; Harry was out of the infirmary, but his friend was now serving detention with Filch. Again. Draco winced in sympathy. He hadn't known Snape to be this cruel even to a Gryffindor, let alone one of his own Slytherins. Shrugging, and taking advantage of the quiet room, he took out a sheaf of parchment, a bottle of 'Super-Secret' ink, and an elegant quill with a green and silver feather, and began to write a letter to his father.  
  
Dear Father,  
  
It is the third day of school, and I am settling into Slytherin well. You may be interested to know that a certain Harry Potter has also been sorted into the serpent's house, and he too is enjoying himself. Of course, you are never surprised by anything, but I am sure you can imagine the reaction of the rest of the school. It is, naturally, very enjoyable to have a literate friend in my own house, and Harry's company does dispel the tedium of Crabbe and Goyle's 'conversation'. They are very useful for certain matters, but not terribly intelligent. And if either Crabbe or Goyle senior are with you, don't worry. I am using that much appreciated ink which is enchanted to appear only to you or me.  
  
My lessons seem to be going very well, as are Harry's. He has shown considerable proficiency in Transfiguration, however potions is posing a slight problem for him. Of course, I am getting on superbly with Severus, but our dear potions master appears to dislike Harry rather strongly. I can't think why, but he has come close to taking points from Slytherin, has given Harry three detentions in two days of school, and even sent him out of the classroom for scraping a chair. Everyone in Slytherin thinks it is most odd. Do you know why he has such animosity towards Harry? Severus also sends his best wishes to you.  
  
The tryouts for the Quidditch team are tomorrow. I will attend, although it is irregular for a first year to be put on the team. Would you like to be informed of the match dates? I know that a good game of Quidditch can please you greatly, and Slytherin have a good time this year. John Derrick and Anthony Bole are beaters from last year, apparently, and they virtually won the cup single handedly. Very Slytherin; strong, and willing to employ any means to win. I am told that the final game between Slytherin and Gryffindor was most enjoyable.  
  
In your reply, could you possibly enclose some plain quills? I adore this green and silver one, but a few teachers are being rather tiresome, and saying it is too ornate. Also, I would hate for an accident to befall it; we have found perhaps the most ignorant and clumsy wizard in one Neville Longbottom (Gryffindor, naturally). The son, I presume, of the late Aurors?  
  
Best wishes to you and mother,  
  
I remain your son,  
  
Draco Malfoy.  
He signed his name with a flourish, and rolled up the letter. Then, satisfied all his belongings were tucked away, he swept down to the Owlery, which was unfortunately up several flights of stairs. He snapped his fingers imperiously, and a large, black eagle owl with a silver band which had the Malfoy crest on it, if you looked closely enough, flew down and perched on his shoulder, nipping affectionately at his ear.  
  
"Oh shush. Let me attach this letter, you silly bird" he said, but with no venom, and he tied the scroll to his bird's leg. Finally relenting, he gave the owl a treat and a sip of water before it flew off into the night sky. He watched until it was out of sight, the moonlight catching his hair and making him look like he had a halo. Eventually he turned and left, wandering aimlessly down the halls. He couldn't be bothered to go back to the common room; all that lay there was work or Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
He had found his way into a small, dusty corridor when he heard voices.  
  
"You know what I mean, Quirrel. Do you want me to go to Dumbledore? You are running out of time."  
  
"I. . .I don't kn-know what you're t-talking about, S-severus" stammered the new Defence against the Dark arts teacher. Barely breathing, Draco crept towards the sound of the voices, and peered in through the classroom door. Snape was leaning in close to Quirrel.  
  
"The mark will never fade, Quirrel. I accept that you are a changed man, and that you regret all you have done. But Albus must know."  
  
"I-I will. I just need t-time."  
  
Severus snorted.  
  
"Well see that you find time, Quirrel. Or you may find that you end up with too much on your hands - entertainment is lacking, I am informed, in Azkaban."  
  
Draco heard footsteps approach the door, and fled.  
  
******************************************** 


	5. Quirrel and Punishments

Dear Draco,  
  
Your mother sends her fondest wishes. I am pleased to hear you are getting on well, and contrary to your opinion, am very surprised to hear of Harry Potter's sorting. Severus' reaction, however, comes as no shock. I am afraid he had a rather unpleasant experience with James Potter and a few of his friends, namely Sirius Black. He has never revealed what happened, but for Severus to hold such a strong grudge over two generations, I presume it was disastrous.  
  
Find enclosed some plain quills. I did tell your mother that Durmstrang were far more relaxed in their rules than Hogwarts, but she would insist on having you close to home. She has also enclosed some fine Belgian chocolates, lest the diligent House Elves let you starve.  
  
You really must be more careful about the way you regard my dearest friends. Some people might take offence at your descriptions of Crabbe and Goyle. In secret ink, however, I totally agree. I am also happy to hear that Potter seems to be an intelligent boy; a carbon copy of his father would be intolerable.  
  
You said nothing of your Defence against the Dark Arts lessons. Which unfortunate soul has been drafted in this year? Again, another benefit of Durmstrang would have been the extensive duelling practice. However, who am I to argue with my wife?  
  
I await your response as soon as possible. Give Harry my best wishes; a friend of yours is a friend of the Malfoy family.  
  
Your father,  
  
Lucius Malfoy.  
Draco folded up the letter, deciding to reply later. Harry had just come in, looking dishevelled.  
  
"What happened to you?"  
  
"Was revising" yawned Harry. "For potions."  
  
"WHAT? We have a test?"  
  
Draco scrambled up, knocking his father's owl flying, and began to scrabble for his potions text. Harry laughed.  
  
"No, no test. I just want to do well in potions. It's a fascinating subject; the way ingredients mix together."  
  
Draco grunted and rolled back into bed. He had been considering telling Harry what he had seen and heard between Snape and Quirrel last night, but on second thoughts he didn't know if he should. Maybe he would leave it. And anyway, they had Defence first thing. He could keep an eye on Quirrel from there.  
  
Draco got dressed, not even noticing the pallor of Harry's face as he watched the blond boy strip. Harry jerked himself out of his reverie just as Draco tugged his arm.  
  
"Come on, lets get some breakfast."  
  
Harry nodded numbly and followed him down the stairs. God, Vernon was right. He was a freak. Draco had no scars or bruises, nobody did. Not everyone had this done. Harry was so bad, so naughty, to have deserved this. What would they all say?  
  
*****************************************************  
  
The Slytherins filed into the Defence classroom with the Hufflepuffs, and Draco quickly grabbed a seat at the front. As usual, Harry sat next to him, and Crabbe and Goyle chose seats where they could protect Draco if needed.  
  
Quirrel came out and Harry immediately tensed. Draco turned, alert to Harry's discomfort. And then Quirrel turned to face Harry, and stared at him for a very long moment, and Harry looked back. A flash of light, green light, a scream. Shouting. Green light. His scar burned suddenly, but he restrained his hand from clapping it.  
  
'Draco' he scribbled on a scrap of paper. 'You know you said Voldemort killed my parents? How?'  
  
'A curse. Avada Kedavra.'  
  
'What is it like?'  
  
'I don't know. . .a flash of green light, I think'.  
  
Harry swallowed, and looked at Quirrel, who was now talking to a Hufflepuff girl.  
  
'Draco, I think Quirrel's hiding something.'  
  
'Why'  
  
'My scar hurts. I just saw a flash of green light in my head when he looked at me.'  
  
Draco swallowed, and gripped Harry's wrist.  
  
"Sir" he called out, piteously. "I don't feel very well."  
  
Quirrel walked over.  
  
"Oh d-dear. Do you feel faint?"  
  
"yes. . .can I go to the infirmary?"  
  
"Of c-course. Potter, if you would escort him?"  
  
Smiling inwardly at Draco's display, Harry made a big show of helping Draco to his feet and they staggered to the door. When they were round the corridor he let go, and Draco walked quickly.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"To Severus."  
  
"No!" exclaimed Harry. "We can't! He'll never believe me!"  
  
"Well where are we going to go then?"  
  
Harry suddenly clutched his head.  
  
"He's coming. Draco, get Dumbledore, get anyone. Quick!"  
  
Draco fled just as Quirrel came around the corner.  
  
"Lost Malfoy, have you Potter?" he said, his voice devoid of any stutter. Harry shivered, the burning in his scar now almost unbearable. Quirrel drew his wand, and opened his mouth.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" cried Harry, and to his amazement the wand flew out of Quirrel's hand. He caught it, and gasped as he felt a wave of energy flow through him. Quirrel staggered slightly and raised his hands to his head. And a hissing voice escaped his turban.  
  
"Harry Potter. Meddlesome, infuriating child."  
  
The voice paused, and the continued, sibilant.  
  
"Pathetic. Unable to even stand up to some muggles. Drop the wands."  
  
Harry froze. How the hell did this thing know?  
  
"I am Lord Voldemort, Harry. I have the power to read minds. I know what you are thinking."  
  
Harry gulped. This was not good. God, why the hell had he come here? He was so pathetic. Anyone else would have killed Voldemort by now, but Harry was just gaping like a goldfish.  
  
"Get him" snarled Voldemort, and Quirrel dived forwards and grasped Harry's neck. A cloud of panic blossomed out of Harry's throat, and he gasped for breath. His chest ached, and he tried to pull away. . .  
  
And did. Quirrel crouched down, looking at his burnt hands.  
  
"He is protected, my lord!"  
  
Another wave of pain shot through Harry's head, and he crumpled to the ground, hating himself for being so weak. He grasped Quirrel's head firmly, and felt the flesh burning, heard the screams. Was this how Vernon felt? Or did he like it? And then he was falling, as another load of pain crashed through his skull, and everything was going black.  
  
*********************************************  
  
Dumbledore looked gravely at the boy in front of him. Harry was so small and slender it was amazing he was still alive. He looked incredibly delicate, his scar standing out lividly from his face and his dark lashes fall over his face. He looked young and innocent, but he was an enigma. For a start, why had he been sorted into Slytherin? Why had he befriended Draco Malfoy of all people?  
  
When the blond haired Slytherin had run up to his office and told him that Voldemort was in the school and trying to kill Harry Potter, he had been totally gobsmacked. Well, it wasn't the sort of thing you heard every day. The wards would have to be strengthened, but he wanted to wait for Harry to wake up first. And he should inform Severus as well.  
  
And he couldn't understand why Quirrel had been unable to touch Harry. There was no protection, magical or physical, that harry could have. The only thing that he could think of was that Voldemort had embedded a part of himself in Harry with the Avada Kedavra curse, and therefore Voldemort in Quirrel's body was unable to harm Voldemort in Harry's body. But it was a tenuous link. He had received a letter from Ollivander as soon as Harry had purchased the wand with the identical core to Voldemort's, and he had wondered how Harry was going to be the same or differ from Tom Riddle.  
  
Harry then woke up, green eyes flicking around suspiciously before settling on Dumbledore.  
  
"Hello sir" he said guardedly.  
  
Dumbledore nodded at him.  
  
"How are you feeling, Harry?"  
  
"Fine thank you sir. Did you get Quirrel?"  
  
"He's dead. And as Voldemort's spirit; well, who can tell? He has probably gone to inhabit some other creature."  
  
"I'm sorry" said Harry softly. "I should have killed him."  
  
Dumbledore turned sharply around to him.  
  
"Harry, don't talk like that! You couldn't have killed him; he is one of the most powerful wizards to stay alive. You did tremendously well to stay alive. There is nothing to be sorry or ashamed of."  
  
Harry didn't believe him. Of course it was Harry's fault.  
  
(Unreliable. . .useless. . .good-for-nothing. . .)  
  
And now he was a murderer. He had killed a man. He shook his head slightly. Didn't want to think about it.  
  
"So, if you feel alright, I suppose you should be going to dinner, no? You must be hungry."  
  
Harry nodded, trying to make his smile genuine, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.  
  
He didn't trust the headmaster.  
  
********************************************  
  
Instead of the Great Hall, Harry went to the Slytherin common room where Draco came rushing forwards before composing himself.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Yeah" said Harry off-handedly. "Thanks for getting Dumbledore."  
  
"No problem. Do you want to get some dinner?"  
  
"Yeah, ok. At least I don't have a detention tonight."  
  
Draco looked uneasy.  
  
"Well. . .when you missed potions. . .Severus set you another one. In the dungeons. I'm sorry - I tried to talk him out of it."  
  
Harry shrugged  
  
"Hey, that's ok. And I suppose I have loads of work for today?"  
  
"No, Dumbledore excused you, saying you were fighting Voldemort in the 2nd floor corridor. McGonagall nearly fainted!"  
  
Draco smirked at the memory, and Harry couldn't stop himself laughing. Instantly he stopped, remember what happened when he laughed at home. Draco didn't notice, and the two boys went down to dinner together.  
  
***************************************  
  
6.58pm found Harry Potter in front of the Potions Room. He had knocked, but Snape hadn't let him in, so he was waiting until 7.00pm. Sure enough, at that time the door swung open, and Snape met him with a smirk.  
  
"Your detention is to scrub the floor of this classroom, and polish all the tables and chairs. Then you can categorise all the potions in my laboratory, I will show you where it is when you've cleaned this room."  
  
Snape had been expecting a gasp or horrified look at least, and was surprised when Harry merely dropped to his knees and began work. Blinking at the boy's obedience, he went back to his marking in silence before deciding Harry looked far too happy. In that he wasn't complaining, or whinging, or glaring. Just scrubbing.  
  
"You're just like your father, Potter." He sneered. "He could never be bothered to do any work."  
  
Christ, thought Harry. If this was the best Snape could do, these detentions would be ok.  
  
"Such a layabout. And nasty with it. Do you know your father nearly killed me, Potter? Like father, like son. You'll never amount to anything."  
  
Harry stiffened, subconsciously expecting the blows that accompanied those words usually, and Snape pressed his advantage.  
  
"He was always pandered to. Perfect Potter. He got away with whatever he liked, never punished. He had such a charmed life."  
  
"I've finished the floor, sir." Said Harry with no inflection, and Snape glared, livid that his biting insults were having no effect.  
  
"Well do it again. It still looks dirty."  
  
Even by his levels, he knew that was horribly unfair, but Harry didn't complain, just got his head down and began washing again. Severus began to get suspicious. Nobody could be this obedient.  
  
"And you failed to kill Voldemort. You seem to bring bad luck with you, Potter."  
  
Now that had struck home. Harry froze momentarily, and had to take a few deep breaths.  
  
"And killing a man within your first week at Hogwarts as well. . .quite impressive."  
  
Harry's scrubbing was more violent now, but sill he said nothing. Snape had run out of insults, and settled for simply looking smugly over Potter's shoulder.  
  
"That will do" he said grudgingly, completely unwilling to admit that the floor was cleaner than the house elves could ever have done. "Come, you have to organise my cupboard still. You'd better hurry if you want to be finished by morning."  
  
He led Harry into the dark cupboard, pointed to the cupboard, and left. Harry looked in horror at the thousands of dusty bottles, and then turned to ask Snape what order they should be put in. Snape was gone.  
  
It took him 3 hours to organise the potions alphabetically.  
  
After he had finished, Snape came back in and looked around. His voice was deadly quiet.  
  
"Why, exactly, have you put these in alphabetical order? Not content with wasting your own night, you now decide to waste mine as well?"  
  
His voice had grown steadily louder, and Harry recoiled. The dark cupboard, the angry man. . .it was all too close.  
  
(The roof is not clean, boy! I told you to clean it! Why have you given us this rabbit food for dinner? I wanted meat. Go and cook some. Not content with wasting your time, you now waste ours?)  
  
"Potter!"  
  
Harry jerked back to reality.  
  
"Sorry sir" he mumbled, suddenly aware of how tired he was. "Shall I organise them by ingredient?"  
  
"Yes" said Snape brusquely, and left.  
  
By the time Harry had finished, it was 6.00am. Snape was nowhere to be seen, and Harry was grateful for that. The exertions of his past few days had caught up with him, and he was just about to collapse. He pulled at the door to get out. . .and nothing happened. When he tugged a little harder he could feel a pull indicating a magic lock. Wondering how his life could get any worse, he slithered down the wall and pulled his knees to his chest.  
  
"I hate myself" he mumbled. 


	6. Terror and aid at last!

The first thing Harry was aware of when he woke up was laughter. And then Snape's voice.  
  
"What, exactly, are you doing?"  
  
Harry scrambled to his feet and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry sir, I finished my detention, but you had gone and the door was locked."  
  
The Ravenclaws stopped laughing, and began whispering amongst themselves.  
  
"Snape kept him in all night?"  
  
"What sort of a detention was that?"  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
Snape looked at Harry curiously. Surely the boy had not spent all night cataloguing his potions? His rooms were spelled to lock themselves at 1.00am. He took in Harry's fatigue - the shadows under his eyes, the dozy look.  
  
"You fool" he said, although not as acerbically as he might have, "When did you finish?"  
  
"Six o'clock, sir."  
  
Snape gaped. No, Merlin don't say that the boy had done all three cabinets? Albus would have his head. . .the second two hadn't been done for ages.  
  
"Potter, come with me. The rest of you, get your equipment set up quickly and quietly."  
  
Harry followed the diminutive figure through, and looked at his work. There had been so many bottles. Snape turned slowly.  
  
"I only asked you to do one cabinet, you stupid boy!"  
  
It was too much. Harry was shattered with exhaustion and pain, and he was completely fed up of being wrong, stupid. With a choked sob, he fled.  
  
*********************************************************  
  
Snape watched him go, frowning. Suddenly something seemed wrong. The boy hadn't complained about his detentions, hadn't talked back. Hadn't complained about spending 11 hours doing manual labour. Looked like he hadn't slept or eaten in weeks.  
  
Putting his pride to one side, Severus decided to approach Harry if in a week he was still worried.  
  
Harry discovered concealing charms, and his life suddenly became a great deal easier.  
  
He had been working in the library (Draco always said he should have been put in Ravenclaw, he worked far harder than was necessary or indeed normal), when he had come across an interesting book.  
  
"Cosmetic Charms for the beginner."  
  
He looked at it curiously, wondering if there was anything that could hide his scar, and opened it. The yellowing pages crackled as he moved them. And then he found it.  
  
"Body Concealing charm. One of the most simple yet effective charms, the strength depends on the strength of the caster. This charm will give the impression that there are no blemishes, and will last for approximately 12 hours. The incantation is very simple, and goes with the 'swish and flick' movement. Simply chant 'Secutus Hortare' followed by the part you wish to hide (in your native tongue), and the charm should work immediately. WARNING: not to be used on the face, as this charm will cause not only blemishes but also facial extremities e.g. eyes, nose, to be removed."  
  
Harry re-read the spell, and shrugged. It didn't look too dangerous. . .  
  
'Secutus Hortare Back' he said, slightly uncertainly, and felt a flash of magic. Quickly hurrying to the closest toilets, he craned around, wincing at the bruises he aggravated. Oh well, everything had it's price. The main thing was, no signs of his abnormality were to be seen.  
  
*********************************************  
  
Draco wouldn't deny that he sneaked a glance at Harry while they were changing, but he was relieved to see that Harry's back was clear, and therefore was more than willing to accept that Harry's odd behaviour had been due to illness.  
  
That was until he was woken by Harry screaming in the middle of the night. The screams went on and on, never seeming to abate or dim. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Draco got up and, with the other boys, padded over to Harry's bed.  
  
"Should we wake him?" asked Goyle  
  
"No!" exclaimed a wiry boy called Stuart. "Waking someone up in a nightmare makes it worse for them."  
  
"But listen to him screaming!"  
  
They looked at each other uneasily, but were cut off by Harry's yelling suddenly stopping. They looked at him wide eyed as he lay, sweaty and entangled in the sheets, in silence for a moment, before he whispered, "No" and fell off the bed.  
  
He woke up on the floor, and his curiously bright green eyes flickered around the room. He sat up, gasped sharply as his back protested, and lay back down again. Draco shooed the other boys away, and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
Harry nodded, overwhelmed by his nightmare. Draco could feel him shivering underneath the thin pyjamas.  
  
"I'm just going to get a drink" said Harry, his voice wobbly. "You guys go back to sleep."  
  
He left, and the rest of his dormitory lay in silence for a few moments.  
  
"Well that was like nothing I've ever seen before." said George Hilton, breaking the silence. "Do you think he's ok?"  
  
"He's been a long time. Maybe we should go and see. . ."  
  
"I'll go" said Draco authoritatively. "He's my friend, and he'll probably get claustrophobic with loads of people there."  
  
Slipping his dressing gown on, he padded down the stairs, wondering where Harry was. When he was in the common, the sound of retching guided him. He found Harry in the toilets, shaking violently.  
  
"Harry, what is it? Are you ill?"  
  
Harry shook his head, looking determinedly at the floor.  
  
"It was my dream" he muttered. "It was horrible. They all died?"  
  
"Who did?"  
  
"Quirrel. . .my parents. . ." Harry broke off to vomit, and leaned back against the tiles.  
  
"Nothing more than I deserve" me muttered, so low that Draco almost didn't hear. Almost.  
  
"Deserve?" he asked, disbelievingly, and Harry flinched.  
  
"You should go, Draco. I'm not going to sleep, but you need it."  
  
"Not until you tell me what you meant by that."  
  
"Fuck off!" snarled Harry, his face twisted in anger. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
Draco flushed at being spoken to, and raised his hand. And suddenly the puzzle pieces fitted into place. Harry, who had already looked horrified and furious with himself for his words, recoiled, and began shaking.  
  
"No, no, please don't!"  
  
Draco lowered his hand, and looked at Harry for a long moment, then spoke angrily.  
  
"They've been abusing you, haven't they. Those muggles. Those damn muggles have been beating you up, haven't they, Harry?"  
  
Harry gave up all his self-restraint, and began to sob.  
  
"I deserved it. I'm a horrible person. I don't even deserve to be alive. I'm a murderer."  
  
"No! Don't say that! You're not, not at all."  
  
Harry shook his head, and kept on shaking it.  
  
"Will you let me see the damage?"  
  
Harry undid the charm, suddenly feeling limp with physical and emotional exhaustion, and Draco sucked in his breath.  
  
"You need to get these treated, Harry."  
  
The dark haired boy froze and shook his head.  
  
"No, they can't know. Please."  
  
"Harry, you'll be in agony. Please, come with me."  
  
"No!"  
  
Again, terrified at his dissent, Harry cringed as though expecting a blow, and Draco realised how serious this was.  
  
"No, Harry, it's for your own good. And if we go to Severus, he'll keep it quiet. Only him and Dumbledore will know."  
  
"If I go to Snape, he'll put salt in the cuts, spit in my face, and tell the whole school how weak I am!"  
  
Draco winced at the descriptive quality, but continued doggedly.  
  
"Look, you're going to be in agony by tomorrow the way those are going. Don't be too proud to ask for help."  
  
Reflecting on the fear in Harry's face, Draco realised he wasn't too proud, just too scared.  
  
"Do you want me to go in and get some healing potions?"  
  
Harry nodded, and then slumped into unconsciousness. Uncertainly, Draco pulled off his dressing gown and draped it over Harry, and then ran as quickly as he could to the passageway that led into Severus' rooms.  
  
Inside, he had to move like a mouse. Severus, he knew, would probably kill an intruder and ask questions later, no matter if the intruder was Slytherin or Gryffindor. So, softly, he headed for the cabinets. Thankfully, they had been categorised. Annoyingly, they had been ordered by ingredient, and not by name. He swore softly, and squinted in the darkness to read the labels. He was so wrapped up in his perusal of the multi- coloured bottles that he didn't hear the approaching steps until Snape had him by the collar.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked acidly. Draco looked away.  
  
"Mr Malfoy, answer me. What are you doing in my personal stores at 3.00am?"  
  
"I needed a potion. For a friend. We didn't want to disturb you. It's just a headache."  
  
"So why didn't your friend go to Pomfrey? Honestly Draco, I'm disappointed in you. Here, sit."  
  
He flitted around his lab, and put a glass in front of Draco.  
  
"Veritaserum. I expect the truth from all of my Slytherins at all times. It is what keeps us together."  
  
Draco drained the glass, knowing it would be stupid to resist.  
  
"What potion did you want?"  
  
"A strong pain-killer and a selection of healing potions."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"A friend is injured."  
  
"Slytherin?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Why did you not tell me or Pomfrey?"  
  
"He was too scared."  
  
"How did the injuries occur?"  
  
"His relatives beat him."  
  
Snape sucked in his breath slightly, and paled.  
  
"You are sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Where is the student?"  
  
"Unconscious in the bathroom. I came as quickly as I could."  
  
Snape was already pulling on his cloak as he fired off the last question.  
  
"Which student is it?"  
  
"Harry Potter"  
  
**********************************************  
  
Severus was confused. All he had heard jarred with what he knew. For one, Draco's consideration was unnerving. For another thing, he had always assumed Potter - no, Harry - to be coddled at home, to be loved, worshipped even. Abuse was something that had not crossed his mind. However. . .the signs were there. The quietness and jumpiness, the mindless obedience. Nobody was that good without having it beaten into them.  
  
And so he hurried, following Draco, to where they found Harry. Severus wrinkled his nose at the revolting smell of vomit, and gestured to Draco to flush the offending toilet. Over the sound of the water, he said,  
  
"I'll keep Harry in my rooms tonight. Get some sleep now, you've done all you can. He'll be alright, just exhaustion."  
  
Draco nodded, exhausted himself, and went up to bed, mind busy with the implications of what he had found out that night.  
  
Meanwhile, Severus cast a mobilicorpus on Harry and strode towards his chambers, the small boy floating next to him. When they were finally inside, Severus gently manoeuvred Harry to the sofa in his sitting room, where he saw any Slytherin who needed help, and laid him down.  
  
"Let's see" he murmered, dispelling Harry's robes. Seeing, he quickly squeezed his eyes shut and took a few deep breaths. How anyone could have done this to a mere child. . .he had assumed it had been a few slaps here and there, nothing like this.  
  
Finally, when he had steeled himself, he opened his eyes slowly, ignoring the moisture pooling in the corners. Pulling himself together, he began to search for the best healing potions he possessed, and a strong painkiller. As an afterthought he picked up a vial of Dreamless Sleep, knowing that Harry would be needing it that night.  
  
Eyes hooded with anger at himself for being so blind, he walked over to the boy, and began to heal him. It was the least he could do, he thought, for being such an ignorant bastard.  
  
***************************************************  
  
Harry woke up feeling more relaxed than he had in ages. The room he was in smelled of lemongrass and crushed leaves, and he was lying face-down on a comfortable sofa. Strong hands were rubbing his back back and fore, and occasionally the thumbs would move in circles over his shoulder blades. As a haze of sleep tried to overtake his senses, he had only the time to wonder why it wasn't hurting his injuries, and then he drifted off into a blissfully dreamless sleep. 


	7. Talking with Sev

Here you are, another chapter. Apparently they're getting better. So says Daggy, who has been reading all the chapters in advance. I have a request. . .if you love music, get 'To Record Only Water for Ten Days', the album by John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Honestly, it is perhaps the best album I have ever had the pleasure of hearing. It's totally unique but beautiful, but you can only get it off the Internet (well, in the UK at least. Maybe it's for sale in the US). But anyway, buy it. You really won't regret it, and it is very inspirational, making me write loads of stories. Maybe even slash, soon *winks at those who have begged* but not in this story, will try a new one. Please, those of you who are for slash, tell me how you want it. . .post-Hogwarts, in Hogwarts, AU? You need to tell me.  
  
Dedicated to Diagonalist for her increasingly kind comments, and also for writing an extra large chapter of Splinters. If you haven't read it, please do so already!  
  
*ahem* on with the story then. *Author groans as everyone runs off to find update of Splinters*  
  
*******************************************************  
"Harry"  
  
Harry turned over, unwilling to register the presence of the universe. He was warm and snug, and had no wish whatsoever to face the world.  
  
"Harry"  
  
Still the voice was coaxing; a man's voice, rich in timbre and soft as silk.  
  
"You have to wake up sometime."  
  
It was starting to sound a little annoyed now, but Harry didn't care. Let the man beat him. He snuggled further into the warm cocoon of the blankets, then felt a weight pushing the bed down.  
  
"Harry, I know you're awake. Look at me."  
  
Harry unwillingly raised his eyes to see Snape. No, this was not Snape. This must be the Severus that the other Slytherins talked about so wistfully. Gone was the sneer, the lines of worry. This man was almost. . .handsome. His hair was soft and clean, pulled back from his face by a length of black silk. His eyes were gentle, and in the candlelight Harry could see that they were a welcoming black, velverty and warm. Why on earth had they seemed like tunnels before? His face was smooth and clean-shaven, and he had obviously just showered as he wore a green towelling robe monogrammed with a double S in silver.  
  
"Good morning" he said, his voice rich and warm. Harry suddenly felt the insane urge to trust this man, to pour out his heart and soul, to trust Severus to keep them for him.  
  
"Good morning, sir"  
  
"Please, call me Severus. First of all, I believe I owe you an apology. I am so very sorry for the way I have treated you; I was overcome by irrational hatred for your father, so much so that I could not see you yourself as a separate person."  
  
Harry's throat constricted, and he merely nodded, blinking quickly. Nobody had ever apologised to him. Nobody had ever talked to him so kindly. He didn't know how to take this affection, how to accept it.  
  
"Harry? Are you still in there?"  
  
There was amusement in Severus' voice, but unspoken concern in his eyes, and Merlin didn't he know how much it hurt the part of Harry that had been suppressed for so long, the part that longed to trust? He didn't know how to face the idea that anyone could care about a murderer. He wasn't a nice person. He wasn't 'right', 'brave' or 'good'. He was a misfit, and a freak. He knew it; it had been said for so long that it had to be true.  
  
Harry nodded again, still blinking the tears back. He hated crying. It was a sign of weakness.  
  
"Alright then" said Severus, still looking slightly suspicious, "I need to finish healing your back. . .most of the bruising is gone, I just need to clear it all up. Will you lie on your front?"  
  
Harry acquiesced quickly, so quickly that he almost suffocated himself. Severus chuckled and moved the pillow off Harry's head.  
  
"Here, put it under your chest, it'll support you better there. I'll try not to hurt. . .it should be better than last night."  
  
Harry revelled in the touch of the warm hands, kneading his muscles out. Several bones in his back popped in relief, and he felt the instantaneous relaxation.  
  
"You're so tense" said Severus, in that smoky voice. "So tight, so stiff."  
  
Harry froze. He could remember those words. He didn't want to. Severus' hands had stilled.  
  
"Harry? Are you alright?"  
  
Harry shook his head, and rolled away from Severus, feeling the bile rise. Clapping a hand over his mouth he staggered to his feet, seeing a sink behind an open door. Ignoring Severus' call, he raced into the bathroom and threw up violently, trembling. No, he would not remember. Didn't want to. . .  
  
But he fell into memories anyway, and his skin grew pale, cold, clammy. And he thought he was going to drown until he was surrounded by dry warmth. Gentle hands grasping his, arms wrapping around his waist. A few silky strands of black hair brushing his forehead, a deep voice. Soothing words.  
  
"Harry, come on. Let's get you back into the warmth, hmm?"  
  
Harry tried to muster up the energy to nod, but felt totally drained. Felt like sobbing. No! Wouldn't cry. Severus had to carry him because he was so weak, and all he could do was loll against the older man. Some Slytherin.  
  
He didn't realise he had spoken the last part aloud until Severus put him down and turned his face so that they were eye to eye.  
  
"Being a Slytherin doesn't mean you cannot be weak, Harry. And you are not weak. You are very strong."  
  
He brushed Harry's hair off his face.  
  
"Trust me, Harry, you are strong. Almost too strong for your own good. Now, I have to finish with the lotion, and then I have to teach. You need to rest. May I give you a sleeping draught to help?"  
  
Harry nodded numbly. He was strong? Of course he wasn't. Severus was just saying that. Severus was lying. He didn't care. He wanted more of that warmth. Snape even smelt warm, of cinnamon and other spices, a little musky.  
  
"Drink this" said Snape, putting a vial next to Harry. "I'm going to get changed. I'll be back periodically to see how you are."  
  
Harry nodded, a plan forming. A very stupid one, but. . .  
  
As soon as Snape had gone, he grabbed another vial, decanted the potion into it, his it, and laid the empty vial which had a few drops of potion in the bottom on the table. Then he lay back, feigning sleep. He felt Snape leave a few moments later, and stole into his bedroom, eyes glinting. There was the bathrobe, full of Snape's smell. He snatched it, and carried it back to the bed on the sofa. Then he took the potion and fell into a deep sleep.  
  
Severus came back after his first lesson to find Harry curled up in sleep, clutching something. Frowning curiously, he moved closer, to find that it was his bathrobe. Snorting with laughter, he left for his next lesson, pleased to see that Harry was sleeping contentedly, even smiling.  
  
******************************************  
  
The sight plagued him, though. Had Harry actually felt safe with his cloak? Resolving to ask his charge later, he tried to concentrate on his class.  
  
But an image of the little boy smiling made him unable to pay attention.  
  
*********************************************  
  
"How is he, Severus?" asked Draco, grey eyes looking up mournfully at Severus. The master smiled and patted Draco's head.  
  
"He's much better, Draco. Just very tired. I'm sure he'll be back in class by tomorrow. Speaking of which. . ."  
  
Draco looked at his watch, gasped, and ran.  
  
**********************************************  
  
Harry was awake and sitting up when Severus came back. The green robe was gone, folded neatly in the bathroom. Severus smiled and sat down on a chair.  
  
"I came in earlier. You looked like you were sleeping well."  
  
Harry flushed, realising what the words meant. And he spoke frankly, surprising Severus.  
  
"You smell warm. All like cinnamon and spices. Like a warm bath. I didn't feel the coldness or fear when you were there."  
  
To say Severus was amazed would be an understatement. He was absolutely speechless. Him, warm! He chuckled, and Harry smiled.  
  
"See, you even sound warm."  
  
Warm. After so much coldness. Maybe there was some hope for a miserable old ex-Death-eater. Maybe. 


	8. Poor Draco!

*Several Days Later*  
  
"Draco,  
  
Why have you not been in touch? I expect prompt replies to my letters, and your mother is worrying.  
  
Lucius Malfoy."  
  
Draco winced, and crumpled up the terse note. He simply didn't have time to reply. The flying trials, which had been cancelled due to Voldemort wrecking the second floor corridor (that elicited a range of responses, from fainting to "Cool!" - that was the younger Weasel, of course), had been rescheduled for that day, and Draco was nervous. Harry, who had been released from Severus' care, clutching a green towelling robe as though his life depended on it after categorically refusing to speak about his injuries, was going to come along as well. After quite a bit of nagging.  
  
And now the stupid sod was going to be late. The sleeping draught he had been taking was doing wonders for his work and mood, but Draco wasn't used to being awake first. Crabbe lumbered over, looking gormless. Or curious, or perhaps happy. It was very hard to tell.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Cooking" said Draco, not looking up.  
  
"Oh"  
  
That seemed to have dried out Crabbe's conversational abilities for the day then.  
  
"No, I'm waiting for Harry to wake up."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Harry stirred in that moment, saving Draco from killing Crabbe and making his father angry.  
  
"Morning, sleepy-head."  
  
"Piss off, Draco." Said Harry, good-naturedly. He let out a jaw popping yawn, and stretched so that the bones in his shoulders cracked as Draco winced.  
  
"Do you have to do that?"  
  
"Yes. It relaxes me."  
  
"Quidditch. Move!"  
  
Harry gasped, and flung himself out of bed, scattering the pillows.  
  
"You bastard! Why didn't you tell me sooner!"  
  
Draco chuckled and threw Harry's clothes at him.  
  
"Come on, we won't be late if we hurry. I brought some toast for you, we can eat as we walk."  
  
********************************  
  
"Alright" said Flint, looking appraisingly at the new players. "We'll try each of you out in different positions, to see who's good for where. And if anyone's good at all. First years, don't get your hopes up. Treat this as a flying practice, there's very little chance of you being picked. Now, let me see."  
  
He contemplated the mass of players, varying in age, height and build.  
  
"John, pick out who you want as beaters first. I'll take prospective keepers, and Cath, look at the chasers. For a seeker, I think we'll keep in James."  
  
Draco was dragged off to try out as a chaser, Harry as a Keeper. He didn't like it. It was lovely, the feeling of flying, but it was so boring being a keeper, and he wasn't very good at it. Flint clapped him on the back, and sent him to play at beater.  
  
"Don't worry, this would be the first time you've played Quidditch. You're doing fine" he roared over the wind. Harry nodded, and flew over to the beaters.  
  
"Hi" he said, breathless from the wind. "Flint sent me over."  
  
"Okay" said John. "Just take this bat, and knock the balls away. We'll try with proper Bludgers later."  
  
Harry moved on quickly as the first ball (soft foam, thankfully) hit him square in the face. His only consolation was that other people were moving around just as rapidly as him.  
  
"Hi Harry" chirped Cath. "We're playing three on three. . .Draco, you can go over to Marcus now. Well done, you. . .Oh!"  
  
She darted off to the other end of the pitch, where Marcus and the Gryffindor captain were having a heated debate.  
  
"We've already started!"  
  
"Well McGonagall said we could have our trials!"  
  
"Snape said we could!"  
  
The two boys glowered at each other.  
  
"Bugger off, Wood" snarled Flint. "There isn't time or room for this."  
  
Wood leaned forward and dived at Flint, who only just moved out of the way in time. Unfortunately, Harry didn't. Wood crashed into him, and on a lucky reflex Harry grabbed the handle of his stick as he slipped off. He hauled himself back on, painfully aware of the glances of the Slytherins surrounding him, and the laughter of the Gryffindors. The wind nipped at his bare fingers.  
  
"That's it" said Flint quietly. "Move, or there'll be trouble."  
  
"Oh yeah? What sort of trouble?"  
  
"This sort of trouble, Wood.", came a silky voice from behind. "I will not tolerate fighting, no, further, abuse, towards any member of my house. You could have killed Mr Potter. Get inside. We're going to the headmaster."  
  
Red faced, and not just from the wind, Wood glided to the ground, and was quickly escorted inside by a very irate looking Snape.  
  
Flint looked around worriedly.  
  
"I think we need reserves this year" he said, his voice strained. "Wood is not a nice Gryffindor. I think we need back-ups."  
  
At his grim words, a few first-years blanched.  
  
"Someone who's already on the team, get some golf balls and try for a seeker. The rest of you, hurry up and pick your people. The new team and reserve team will be on the notice-board tomorrow. Potter, Malfoy, Zabini, Coombes, Radcliffe, Sampingson, Retterarn, all try for Seeker. One of you must be able to be used as a reserve."  
  
With that he flew off, waving a hand for everyone to organise themselves.  
  
"Alright, Seekers over here."  
  
The burly fifth year pelted golf balls straight at the unsuspecting boys (and girl), and nobody managed to catch any. In the end they went in, tired, sweaty, and annoyed. Flint had reduced several girls to tears and was seriously pissed off with Wood. Wood was looking homicidal after being severely reprimanded by McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore.  
  
Dear Father,  
  
I do apologise for my not replying. School has been busy. I am sure with your job at the Ministry you will be aware of Voldemort's presence at the school; well, I was involved, as was Harry. Quite impressive for the first week at school, isn't it! We also found out about those muggles, and he is getting on far better with Severus. It turns out that they were abusing him, quite badly. He was in a real mess, but Severus healed him. Harry won't admit to it though, so I don't know what will happen.  
  
We had the Quidditch trials today, and an altercation with the Gryffindor team. The first match is the day after tomorrow, if you want to come. I may be reserve Seeker! After the fight, Marcus Flint, the captain, decided to find a reserve team in case anything happens in the match. I think he's quite worried about the Gryffindor captain, Wood. He seems nasty.  
  
I have no time to write; an inordinate amount of written homework. Harry sends his best wishes to you and mother as, of course, do I,  
  
Draco.  
  
The next day, the lists were up.  
  
Draco was the reserve seeker.  
  
The Slytherin first-years went crazy. It was virtually unheard of for a first year to get on the team, let alone as seeker. Even Severus came in to congratulate Draco.  
  
"First game of the season tomorrow." Said Flint that night. The trials had been left late, and there had been little time for practice. The Slytherin team was excited; Quidditch was a game they excelled in, even if their methods were not entirely fair. It was, Flint said, the winning that counted, not the taking part.  
  
****************************************************  
  
Harry was woken up at 2.00am the next morning by a thud at the end of his bed. He squinted in the darkness, trying to make out something. It felt odd, even though it was too dark to see anything. That was it! The curtains didn't shut properly, and a shaft of moonlight fell into Draco's hair. Squinting more, he could make out that Draco's bed was empty. He supposed the other boy had gone to the bathroom and knocked into Harry's bed, waking him.  
  
After another few minutes, he got worried, and padded quietly out of the room, rubbing his eyes. Not that he would say, but the potion wasn't working as well as it should have, and he was sleeping increasingly lightly. He looked in the common room; nothing. Trying the bathroom door, he heard a choked sob, and the unmistakable sound of someone being sick. He pushed the door open, and rubbed circles in Draco's back.  
  
"It would be stupid to ask how you're feeling" he said, dryly. Draco nodded, and threw up.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Perhaps he wasn't being very sympathetic. He didn't know how to be. And, in all fairness, a bit of sickness was not exactly life-threatening compared to some of the beatings he had been subjected to.  
  
"I don't know. . .ow, my stomach. . ."  
  
He threw up, shaking now. Harry took in the pale skin glistening with sweat, the dilated pupils.  
  
"You've got food poisoning" he murmered. "No wonder you feel so crap."  
  
Draco shuddered and retched, dry. There was no food left in his stomach to vomit out.  
  
"Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
The silver-haired boy nodded, making strange whimpering noises.  
  
"Come on. . .just lean on me. . .hang on. . ."  
  
Harry supported Draco's weight, virtually carrying him to the infirmary. He pushed the door open with his foot and laid Draco down on a bed, calling hesitantly for the medi-witch, who came stumbling out of her office.  
  
"What? Oh, you poor dear" she said, knocking Harry out of the way. Panic surged through him as he stumbled into the door-frame.  
  
(Watch out, freak!)  
  
"Make yourself useful, dear, and ask Professor Snape to come up. Someone's poisoned this young man, and I know for a fact it wasn't the elves. Someone's in trouble.  
  
Harry was barely listening.  
  
(Useless. . .make yourself useful. . .oh, you can't do that. . .)  
  
He fled, shivering, to the dungeons, and drew to a halt in front of Snape's door. What if the man was furious at being woken up? What if he. . .no, he wouldn't. . .  
  
He tapped nervously, and the door swung open.  
  
"What is it? Oh, Harry. Come in."  
  
"It's Draco, sir. He's in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey said he'd been poisoned."  
  
Severus' arm flew up, and like a flash Harry was on the floor, cringing. Severus knelt down next to him, hearing him whimpering.  
  
(Useless. . .pain in the arse. . .give you a. . .stupid little fuck. . .)  
  
"Harry" he said softly. "Harry. Harry. Harry." insistently, until Harry uncurled himself. "I'm not going to hurt you. Ssh, I promise I won't."  
  
He looked down to see Harry still shaking, and took one fragile hand in his.  
  
"You're freezing, child."  
  
He stood up, pulling Harry with him, and moved over to the coat stand, not releasing Harry's hand. He draped one thick cloak around Harry, and another around himself.  
  
"Come, we will go and see Draco, and you can spend the rest of the night in here."  
  
They walked up to the infirmary, Harry having to almost run to keep up with Severus' long stride, hand in hand, Severus providing a welcome anchor to the young boy. Draco was heaving into a bowl when they came in, and barely looked up. Pomfrey came in from her office carrying an anti-nausea potion which Draco drank with some difficulty before settling back down.  
  
"What happened?" asked Severus. Draco shrugged.  
  
"I was eating dinner. . .that's the last thing I ate. The same as Harry, and he's not ill."  
  
Severus and Pomfrey turned to Harry, who blushed.  
  
"Well, I wasn't that hungry. I didn't eat much."  
  
"What was in a small basket? There must have been something that didn't go around to everyone."  
  
"No. . .just the bread on our side plates."  
  
Snape and Pomfrey shared triumphant looks.  
  
"Someone poisoned your bread, Draco. Not badly. . .you'll be fine in a few days."  
  
"A few days!?" squawked the Slytherin. "We're playing Gryffindor tomorrow!"  
  
"Yes well, there's nothing I can do about that. You need bed rest."  
  
"Don't worry" said Harry. "I'm sure the first team seeker will be fine."  
  
None of them believed it.  
  
*********************************************** 


	9. Quidditch

"Right" said Harry brightly. "I'm really tired, I'll just be going to sleep now."  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow and beckoned Harry back.  
  
"Sit down" he said, his eyes serious. "Now, two questions. Why were you awake at this ungodly hour anyway? And why didn't you eat dinner? You're far too skinny as it is."  
  
Harry fought the urge to shift uncomfortably, knowing it would seal his guilt, and took a deep breath.  
  
"Draco shook me awake because he was feeling so ill. And at dinner, I did eat. Just not very much. I was talking, and I honestly wasn't very hungry. But I forced down quite a bit, three drumsticks and some potato."  
  
Severus looked relieved.  
  
"You would tell me if there was anything wrong, wouldn't you?"  
  
Harry was taken aback by the apparent need in Snape's voice.  
  
"Um. . .yes. Of course."  
  
"Good. Now, you should get some sleep. Do you want your draught?"  
  
"No. . .I'll never wake up in the morning for the game if I have it now."  
  
Severus nodded, and moved away. Harry could hear the clinking of potions vials behind him as Severus cleared up the lab, and finally amongst the background sounds he fell into a heavy sleep.  
  
***************************************  
  
"He WHAT?" roared Flint. "I'm going to kill that BLOODY son of a BITCH with my bare FU. . ."  
  
"That will do, Marcus" said Severus smoothly. "Regrettable as this is, and don't worry, I will kill Wood with far greater expertise than you, you must find another reserve seeker. And for Merlin's sake, make sure James doesn't get hurt."  
  
"Right" said Flint shortly, his eyes gleaming angrily. "Harry, you'll have to fill in. You're the only one who can even ride a bloody broom."  
  
"Language, Flint"  
  
"Yes sir." Flint turned to face the rest of the room. "TEAM!" he bellowed, "Time to go!"  
  
"I don't have any robes" whispered Harry. Severus smiled at him.  
  
"Don't worry, they're all in the changing rooms. You'll be fine in Draco's, and his broomstick is there too. Good luck, though hopefully you won't need it."  
  
Harry sprinted off to find the rest of the team. He caught up with them on their way over to the changing rooms, lagging at the back. Bole clapped him on the back.  
  
"Don't worry, Harry. Nobody's going to mind if you come on and don't do well. It's Wood's fault."  
  
Harry nodded, feeling oddly like someone had replaced the bones in his legs with jelly, and his brain with cotton wool. He was clumsy getting changed, but finally managed to make it into his robes. Then the team went out of the main entrance, while the reserves had to sit in the changing rooms, worrying. Harry was one of the few brave enough to venture outside.  
  
It was incredible.  
  
The pitch was massive, bigger than anything he had ever seen. He could see the Gryffindors and Slytherins zooming about, so fast, so high, and his stomach lurched. He stepped back from the doorway, and sat down, polishing Draco's broom absently on his robes.  
  
************************************  
  
Severus watched from the stands, Lucius next to him. The blond man had been disappointed to hear of Draco's illness, and angry to hear of the Gryffindor's cowardly tactics. Severus was currently having to restrain him every time a Gryffindor flew to close from hexing them.  
  
"Lucius, please!"  
  
"But Sevvvveerrrruuuuuuuuus" whined Lucius. "It's fun, hexing Gryffindors!"  
  
"NO!"  
  
Lucius pouted and glared balefully around the pitch. Severus followed his eyes, seeing the two Gryffindor beaters close in on the Slytherin seeker.  
  
"James!" he yelled, but it was too late. As one beater forced James to dip by slamming a bludger at him, the other one - a Weasley twin, he would bet - smashed another bludger lower. James flew straight into it, his broomstick cracking in two. Lucius was on his feet and halfway through a spell before Severus stopped him.  
  
"No" he said, tiredly. James, who had not fallen far, had nonetheless cracked his wrist. He staggered off to the medical room with a friend as Flint flew over to Madam Hooch.  
  
"Oh Merlin" muttered Severus.  
  
"What? You have a substitute."  
  
"Yes, Harry Potter. He's only been flying for two days."  
  
"Oh Merlin."  
  
***********************************************  
  
Some little part of Harry had foreseen Madam Hooch calling him out to play. He mounted his broom and flew out after her, hands shaking on the stick. Wood sneered at him, and Flint looked worried. It would be a horrible match to lose.  
  
"And we have a Slytherin substitute, Harry Potter, Seeker." Announced the Hufflepuff who was commentating.  
  
Harry allowed himself to drift up high, looking over the game. The Gryffindor keeper was making tight circles below, obviously seeking the snitch rather than waiting for it. Harry was more than content to stay out of the way, observing.  
  
"He looks very comfortable on the broom. He might make the team next year" commented Malfoy, stroking his cane thoughtfully. Severus just nodded, sitting on the edge of his seat. Merlin, how he wanted to win this match.  
  
And then suddenly, Harry was diving down. It looked like he had lost control of the broom; thoughts of hexes flitted through Severus' mind, but there was nobody who could. . .Harry was diving down, almost vertical, this was like nothing he had ever seen. . .the Gryffindors were bemused, the Slytherins horrified. Two seekers injured in one game was not good, and hell for the insurance too. . .Harry was still plummeting, people were screaming. . .and his teeth were gritted as he reached out, his hand closed around something, and he was soaring back up again. . .and the something was gold, and flapping and looked very much like. . .  
  
"The snitch!" roared the commentator, in a very un-Hufflepuff like way. "Harry Potter has caught the snitch for Slytherin!"  
  
The stadium went berserk. Absolutely mad. The Slytherin team couldn't get their hands on Harry quick enough, practically dragging him to the ground. Lucius had let out a very undignified whoop of joy, and then looked down his nose at Snape as soon as people started to stare.  
  
Snape shot him a dirty glare and began making his way down the stands to congratulate his team. Dumbledore was already there, Minerva was sulking. The Gryffindor team looked annoyed to say the least. First game of the season, and Slytherin were in top form.  
  
Life, Severus thought, was good.  
  
**********************************************  
  
"Mister Potter"  
  
Harry turned slowly, painfully aware that his shirt was out of reach, and that the bruises on his chest were not fully healed. Lucius Malfoy looked at him inscrutably, and handed the garment to Harry.  
  
"Well played, Harry. May I call you Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded, in awe of this impressive man. Every pore seemed to exude confidence and class.  
  
"I hear that was your first game. And yet, you pull off a dive worthy of young master Krum."  
  
Harry shrugged, trying to pretend he had any idea who Master Krum was. Some Quidditch player, he supposed.  
  
"Are you proud?"  
  
The bland grey eyes invited truth, and Harry nodded.  
  
"Yes, I am. I would say I wish it could have been Draco playing, but that would be a lie."  
  
Lucius chuckled, but then his face darkened.  
  
"Yes, I will be lodging a formal complaint with the Ministry about his poisoning. It is unacceptable."  
  
"The Ministry?" questioned Harry, before thinking. He flinched back, horrified with himself for daring to interrupt. Lucius looked at him calculatingly.  
  
"Ah yes, Draco informed me that you were living with muggles. The ministry. . .well, it is an organisation that keeps the order amongst wizards and prevents us from revealing our world to the muggles. Rather like a cross between the muggle government and police force, I suppose."  
  
Harry nodded, understanding, and quite frankly very relieved that he had not been hit by the eerie cane that Lucius carried about with him. As he changed, the blond man watched him still, and was about to speak when Dumbledore came in.  
  
"Ah, Mister Malfoy. Just the wizard I was looking for. A word, if you please?"  
  
"And but one word?" drawled Malfoy. "Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow."  
  
Dumbledore looked at him icily, and with a smirk Lucius tilted his head to Harry.  
  
"It has been a pleasure talking to you, Harry. I will see you later."  
  
"Goodbye sir" said Harry, feeling caught between Malfoy and Dumbledore. With a wink, Malfoy followed Dumbledore outside, and Harry heard their footsteps leaving, the tap of the cane on the ground.  
  
*********************************************  
  
True to his word, Lucius did see Harry again, when he went to the infirmary to see Draco. Harry was already there, eyes gleaming and hair dishevelled. Draco looked paler than usual, but still jubilant.  
  
"Did you see the match, father?"  
  
"Yes, a most impressive performance. I do hope that Slytherin will win the house cup this year, Draco.  
  
"Yes father. I am sure we will."  
  
Harry hung back awkwardly, not wanting to interfere, but feeling that leaving would be rude. Draco waved him back.  
  
"Sit down, Harry. You look like a cat on a hot tin roof!"  
  
Harry smiled uncertainly and perched on the edge on another bed, still looking ready to flee if needed. Slowly he found himself being drawn into the Malfoy's conversation, until some time later the three of them were talking animatedly. The formality between father and son, Harry realised, was just the way Draco had been brought up, and although they spoke nicely and were unfailingly polite, there was a real bond between them, they were on the same wavelength.  
  
Harry felt a pang of jealousy but bit it back. It served him right. Nobody cared about him because he was a bad person. It was what he deserved.  
  
His good mood punctured by his musings, he turned back to the conversation and pretended to smile. He kept pretending for the rest of the day.  
  
****************************************************  
  
AN: kudos to anyone who gets the famous quote hidden herein. More kudos if you can tell me the character who says it originally. 


	10. Illness

Xikum LuluW and Ellie all picked out the quote. BlackRose1356 got the author of the play Poochie-san and Allocin got the play but not the character Tonia Barone got a quote.don't know if it was Lockhart. . . The angelic vampire got a quote and play but not the one I was thinking of . . .but kudos anyway. Killing-dance and Sunde got the person who says it. The rest of you, read some literature! It's from Romeo and Juliet, Mercutio says it TO Tybalt (so you were close, Allocin)  
  
AN: I have a livejournal! Thanks to Daggy. Please, please add me to your friends lists. I will be posting little snippets of fic there, romance and angst, and most likely more quickly than on ff.net. So please check it out!  
  
That's MOOdragon, not MOONdragon. Cos Moondragon was already taken.  
  
When Harry had returned that evening to see Draco, he had found Lucius still there, looking tenderly at his son. It seemed slightly out of character for the aloof man, but he supposed that was the sort of relationship one had with a son.  
  
How would he know?  
  
He remained, staying in the shadows, until Madam Pomfrey politely informed Lucius that Draco needed to rest. Nodding, Lucius got up and walked past Harry.  
  
"Please, Harry, walk with me."  
  
Harry fell a little behind the older man and Lucius looked at him appraisingly.  
  
"Why do you always walk behind?"  
  
Harry was confused by the question, but answered as well as he could.  
  
"I know my place, sir."  
  
"Ah, but you are a boy, a powerful wizard, not a house elf. Come, walk beside me."  
  
Uncertainly, Harry moderated his step to come alongside Lucius. The older man walked regally, but Harry found if he stretched his legs a little he could manage to keep up without jogging. Harry still felt unsafe next to Lucius. He felt like he was unguarded, and it was making him nervous. Perhaps Lucius noticed, because he made light conversation as they walked through the corridors of the school.  
  
"How are you finding school, Harry?"  
  
The warm, paternal air confused Harry slightly, and he stuttered on his reply, instantly furious with himself for seeming so stupid.  
  
"Very enjoyable, sir. I especially like transfiguration."  
  
"Good, good" murmered Lucius thoughtfully, and then suddenly, "Please, call me Lucius. I am no teacher, or master of yours. As far as I am concerned, we are equals."  
  
Harry nodded uncertainly.  
  
"Yes, si. . .Luc. . .si. . .Lucius."  
  
The blond-haired man smiled at his discomfiture and nodded. They were at the exit by now, a long path leading out to the Unplottable road which led to Hogwarts. Lucius had a carriage waiting, emblazoned with the Malfoy crest that Harry had seen so many times on Draco's belongings, and as he took in the awesome sight of the transporter, Lucius put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Harry, if you should need anything - anything at all - do not hesitate to send me an owl. And feel free to write to me; I would imagine you are not in contact with those muggles much. It must be a little lonely."  
  
"Y-yes, Lucius" said Harry uncertainly.  
  
"Well, take care" said Lucius, holding out his hand. Harry grasped it firmly and nodded. "I'm sure I shall see you again this term, or maybe at Christmas. I'm afraid I really must depart now, though. I have pressing matters to attend to at home. Congratulations on the Quidditch again. A most impressive display."  
  
"Thank you. Have a safe journey" said Harry, nodding formally. He watched the carriage swing out of the gates, and watched until it was out of sight before turning around, shoulders slumped. Then he straightened them out, put on a mask of cool indifference, and walked in measured paces back to the castle.  
  
He wasn't sure what to do. He felt. . .numb, deadened. He was afraid, too. With the commotion of Draco's poisoning and the trials, Severus hadn't grilled him on the Dursleys, but Harry knew it was coming. He wanted to hide somewhere and never emerge, because suddenly the school seemed so big, and he was so little. Not thinking straight, he went through the dungeons, taking the doors with rusted hinges showing their lack of use, until he found a cupboard big enough just for him. It was filled with bottles, old bottles coated in dust. There was a faint smell of mint and roses, and it felt nice and safe. He curled his knees up to his chest, and waited patiently for the panic to overtake his senses as usual.  
  
Why did he seek the terror of being locked in a cupboard? It made him feel better, because it was what he deserved. For being such a failure. For being a murderer. The guilt wasn't coming. It washed over him in waves, usually, almost making him feel relieved. Now he felt guilty for not feeling guilty, but nothing in him would obey the command to panic. Furious, he slammed his fist into the wall, and stopped, his knuckles still touching the wall. God, it burned and stung and ached. He hadn't felt pain like this in so very long. He guessed that something was broken; a finger, perhaps, or a knuckle. Maybe even two. He didn't care; the pain reassured him. Made him feel alive. His hand was bleeding profusely; he couldn't straighten the curled fingers as they were swollen now. Cradling his hand to his chest, he got up shakily, feeling the room tilt around him, and reached out for the wall with his other hand.  
  
It took a while to reach the main castle; he had a good sense of direction, but had to stop through dizziness and nausea several times, leaning his head against the stone wall until the feeling passed. He was feeling more and more ill by the second, the pain in his hand suddenly detracting from his relief and making him feel worse. Flashes of pain would whip across his head, not his scar, and his stomach would cramp excruciatingly. Then a bout of severe nausea would follow, and he would collapse to the ground clutching his stomach before getting painfully to his feet and carrying on. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, as he staggered on, eyes clouded by spots of dizziness, he walked straight into Severus.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry looked at Severus, the torch-light illuminating his clammy skin and unfocussed eyes. He just stared, as though he had never seen another human.  
  
"Harry? Are you alright?"  
  
Harry stared at Severus, moved forwards uncertainly as the older man looked at him in confusion.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry collapsed forwards in Severus' arms, coughing violently, shivers wracking his frail body, and Severus lifted him up. As he did so, he noticed how thin Harry was and how hot his forehead was; crazily so. Concerned now, he carried his young Slytherin quickly up the stairs to the Infirmary.  
  
"Poppy, I have an ill boy here."  
  
He laid Harry on a bed, looking down at him. The boy's breathing was shallow and he was still shuddering. One hand was swollen, with a few broken bones by the look of it. Harry was covered from head to toe in dust, but the damp sweat shone on his brow.  
  
Madam Pomfrey came bustling through and began running her hands over Harry's head.  
  
"Oh my, he does have a fever. What happened, Severus? Oh goodness, his hand!"  
  
"Yes. . .I was returning to the dungeons when he walked into me and collapsed. Naturally I came here immediately."  
  
"Yes, naturally" said Pomfrey, slightly suspiciously. She knew what Severus was like for taking care of his own students. "Well, I don't know what I can do except give him a fever reducing potion. Wizards don't get fevers from anything other than stress, so you should talk to him later. But for now he needs bed rest and no disturbances. I'll put a curtain around."  
  
Severus nodded.  
  
"Would you like me to change him?"  
  
"Yes please. I would use a spell, but I don't think the extra magic would do him any good."  
  
Severus nodded again, accepting the proffered pyjamas, and moving behind the curtain. Harry was ridiculously light in his arms as he undid the robes. The jumper was too large, though the smallest size, and came off easily. Harry really did look awful, and had to put on some weight. His ribs stuck out sharply from the skin, and even his hips jutted out painfully. The way that even in unconsciousness he whimpered as his trousers were removed disturbed Severus; it would have to be added to an ever-growing list of things he needed to find out about Harry Potter. Finally, he lifted Harry into the bed, and placed a surprisingly tender hand on his forehead, willing away the fever.  
  
"Sweet dreams" he whispered, and closed the curtains behind him.  
  
********************************************  
  
"Severus"  
  
Snape turned with an ill-concealed sigh of annoyance and looked behind him.  
  
"What is it, Albus? I've had a long day."  
  
"I want to talk with you about Mr Potter."  
  
"Can it not wait until tomorrow?"  
  
"Severus, do you not see this behaviour as concerning? He disappears routinely, seems to confide in nobody. It had taken nearly a week for us to find out about serious abuse. It is not a healthy state of affairs, Severus."  
  
Snape allowed his eyes to slip closed. He was more worried than he cared to admit, but Dumbledore was right. Even in Slytherin, he had never had such a reclusive student. Not only was he worried that things were worse than he had suspected, but if Harry didn't open up to someone then who knew what he would resort to to find inner peace?  
  
"Yes, Albus" he replied, wishing he could keep his voice a little softer. "I will talk to him tomorrow."  
  
"But do you not think tonight would be. . ."  
  
"I know how to look after my damn students, Albus" snapped Snape, and instantly paled. "Oh god, sorry. I didn't mean to."  
  
"It's ok. I know you've had a stressful day."  
  
"No, I know that's no excuse. I apologise, I had no right to speak to you like that."  
  
Dumbledore smiled and patted Severus' shoulder.  
  
"Apology accepted. Now get to bed before I deduct house points."  
  
Snape chuckled, and bade the headmaster goodnight. 


	11. Fever

Severus had to rely on a draught of sleeping potion that night, but knew that it would be worth it in the long run. There would be no sense in further upsetting Harry by his lack of temper.  
  
It was a cool day, and the black limbs of the trees in the Forbidden Forest stood out starkly against the pale sky. It was the early lightness that woke Harry up. Well, that and a nightmare. The same one that he always had. He was a murderer. He felt himself killing everyone around him; Draco, Severus, Blaise. Everyone who had been nice to him. So, unwilling to chance more observations from his psyche, Harry got up and walked softly over to the window. He shivered in the thin pyjamas, but the cold felt good against his skin. He was used to the cold when he was in his cupboard with a few rags of bedding for cover, and even though the warmth was more comfortable it was odd and he preferred the bite of chill.  
  
Sitting down, he allowed his mind to wander. What had his parents been like? He didn't know anything about them. Were they even wizards? There were so many questions that he wanted answered. Especially about Draco and Lucius. How much exactly did they know? He could feel the cold, dark power radiating off Lucius as the man walked, spoke, breathed. He was a strong wizard, so why was he interested in Harry? Was he even to be trusted?  
  
And Severus. How could Harry describe the trust he felt in Severus after just a few kind words? He was sure that it was just a facade; that the head of house was just waiting to gain Harry's trust before humiliating him or hurting him. After all, why else would he care? Harry was just one more snotty-nosed brat to make the teachers' lives a misery, he knew that as well as the next person. So Harry would have to be careful not to trust Severus.  
  
It was all so confusing.  
  
Seeing his slender hands gain a purplish tinge, Harry crept back to his bed and tucked himself in. Staring at the ceiling didn't do much to keep him awake, so he recited potions ingredients in his head. It didn't make him feel much better, didn't lighten the load weighing his heart down, but he supposed it had to be good for his education.  
  
And that was all that mattered to the teachers.  
  
**********************************************  
  
Severus gave a long suffering sigh before rolling out of bed in a manner certainly not befitting his terrifying reputation, and stumbled into the bathroom to wash his face. He didn't like coming face to face, or body to body, with himself in a mirror. He wasn't too concerned about his body, it was just the comments of the mirrors he disliked. Impertinent, contrary objects.  
  
A few splashes of water on his face woke him up about 80%, he would rely on a cup of coffee for the next 15%, and 5% snippiness from exhaustion was what maintained his reputation. He pulled a white, freshly laundered shirt on and buttoned it, snapping the hem tight with a flick of his elegant hands, and then his trousers; black, naturally. Black robes followed, and then a billowing black cape to complete the effect.  
  
Pausing only to hex the mirror into a (sadly) temporary silence as it told him to wash his hair, Severus Snape affixed his Glare to his face and swept out to meet the world. Again.  
  
*****************************************************  
  
"Good morning, Severus" said Dumbledore cheerily. Severus glared moodily into his bowl of cereal and grunted something that could have been polite in return. Dumbledore smiled benignly and crunched happily away on a slice of toast, unaware that he was scattering crumbs all over his beard. Well, that at least caused Severus a little amusement.  
  
Draco, he saw, had returned to the school, looking a little drawn but generally healthier. He obviously didn't know where Harry was, from the confused look on his face as he searched the table. Finally the piercing grey eyes moved over to Severus. Snape nodded curtly, informing Draco silently that he would explain after the meal. Catching on as quickly as Severus would expect of one of his Slytherins, Draco tilted his head slightly in acquiescence and resumed eating.  
  
Severus was not surprised when he nearly walked into Draco leaving the Hall.  
  
"Harry is ill. I'm afraid you can't see him just at the moment. He's not contagious but I want to talk to him first. He has a fever, so something is troubling him. I presume I do not need to inform you that, should you disobey my orders, the repercussions should be exceedingly unpleasant?"  
  
Draco tried not to blanch and nodded sharply, before being excused to go to his next lesson. Severus meanwhile made his way to the Infirmary. He peered through the window to see Madam Pomfrey bent over some paperwork at her desk, and opened the door as quietly as he could, so as not to disturb anyone else in there. As it turned out, Harry was alone. He still looked pale and clammy, with unhealthily pink cheeks and dull eyes, and he was currently staring into space.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
There was no response, Harry just continued gazing at the wall. Worrying as the lack of reaction was, Severus was more concerned by the look of terror on Harry's face, the way his bony hands clutched at the duvet making his knuckles go white. He moved closer, uncertainly.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry's eyes flickered slightly, he relaxed his grip on the duvet.  
  
"Harry."  
  
More relaxation, as Severus crept closer.  
  
"Harry."  
  
Finally the green eyes cleared and flicked around to look at Severus, the pupils still dilated.  
  
"Good morning, Professor" he said, sounding totally normal. Severus was thrown for a moment; how could he go from being so far away, so scared of something, to so ordinary? But maybe it was something he conditioned himself to.  
  
"Good morning, Harry. May I sit down?"  
  
Harry nodded and Severus sat by the bed, arranging his robes around him.  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
"Much better, thank you sir. I am quite eager to get back to classes. I'm sure I must have missed some important work today."  
  
Severus smirked inwardly at the boy's completely Slytherin attempt to deflect attention. With anyone except himself it might have worked, but Severus had seen too many students trying to distract him with that technique.  
  
"I'm sure Draco will be very willing to help you catch up. He was worried about you this morning."  
  
"Oh, how is he? Better, I hope. Has anything happened about Wood?"  
  
"Draco is much better, and the headmaster is at this moment, I believe, speaking with Wood's parents. The Gryffindor portrait overheard the team speaking about it, which is irrefutable proof of his guilt. I would imagine a term's suspension and a hefty fine should discourage him nicely."  
  
Harry smiled, wincing as his lips cracked under the pressure of his grin.  
  
"Now, what were you thinking of when I came in, hmm?"  
  
Harry did a very good job of looking confused and smiled sweetly.  
  
"Oh, nothing much. I don't know. Just thinking how bored I was."  
  
Severus' eyes bored into him and Harry had to fight the urge to shift uncomfortably. The older man made him feel like he was being dissected, and he waited to hear that he was a liar, or something like. The words never came. Severus merely looked at him through hooded eyes as though mentally calculating something.  
  
"I don't believe you, but I can't force you to talk."  
  
Harry smiled slightly at the frank statement.  
  
"Do not, however, think that that will prevent me from nagging you frequently."  
  
Harry shrugged. Severus would forget, he didn't doubt it. Everyone forgot after time.  
  
****************************************************  
  
Rubbing his temples, Severus hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts. He had stayed too long and was now going to be forced to rush to get to his next lesson. Harry was proving to go against the stereotype of abused children, as far as he knew them; he refused to trust anyone, whereas Severus would have expected him to be clinging onto anyone willing to help him. And he didn't like the periodic silences that Harry lapsed into; he would suddenly stare into space, pale, clutch at the sheets. Maybe shiver, occasionally gasp for breath. It was almost like Harry was drowning in his own memories.  
  
And if he didn't open up, then what would happen about his fever? Wizards rarely got ill, and fevers were a sure sign of some deep stress. But there was nothing he could do except hope that Harry would confide in Draco. Allowing the school to find out about the abuse was one thing, but Harry needed to talk about himself as well. Otherwise, Severus worried, he would allow it to gnaw at his spirit. And then. . .anything could happen. But with a wizard as strong as Harry, anything was a bad thing. He could fall into a pattern of self-destruction, or others-destruction, becoming a new Voldemort.  
  
Yes, Severus Snape was definitely uneasy as he swept down the final flight of stairs to Potions.  
  
*************************************************  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry opened his eyes and smiled at his visitor.  
  
"Hello Draco. How are you?"  
  
"Fine thanks. You?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm alright" lied Harry. He actually felt a little bit like someone was trying to drill little holes in his head, and like a dozen house-elves were jumping up and down on his stomach, but other than that he was ok.  
  
"You look like shit" remarked Draco frankly, and Harry forced a laugh.  
  
"I'll live. Have I missed anything in class?"  
  
"Merlin, Harry, no! You are so paranoid! Maybe you should have been in Ravenclaw!"  
  
The words had been meant in jest, but they struck Harry deeply. He didn't belong, he didn't fit in. He deserved to live his life as a reject and an outcast, didn't he? 


	12. 12 and important note

I have a new fic! Finished! You all have to read it, I might post it here but it will definitely be at my live-journal first, address ting to get scared that it's only her who ever reads me.  
  
Draco paused, thinking he had seen a flash of misery on his friend's face, but if he had it was quickly disguised by a laugh.  
  
"Yeah right, Draco."  
  
They lapsed into a silence that to Draco didn't seem entirely companionable; Harry seemed to be thinking of something else. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall and his face was pale.  
  
"Harry? You alright?"  
  
There was no response and it occurred to Draco that perhaps he should leave Harry alone; maybe he wanted some solitude.  
  
"Oi! Harry!"  
  
Still no response, although Harry's breathing had sped up and he was clutching the sheets. Tentatively, Draco reached forwards and touched Harry's shoulder. The effect was instantaneous. Harry shot back, eyes wide and looked confused.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
"What happened?" asked Draco, his eyes worried. Harry shrugged.  
  
"I don't know. I was just thinking."  
  
"What in Merlin's name were you thinking about to make you go so pale?"  
  
"Nothing" said Harry, more curtly than Draco could remember him ever speaking. A gust of wind whipped around the room, rustling Draco's head. Ominous wind, the feeling of danger. He looked sharply at Harry, who's eyes were unfocussed.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
As he had expected, Harry snapped back into himself and instantly shrank back as though expecting to be hit. But Draco was getting used to this now. He backed off far enough to let Harry relax, and then pulled the door open.  
  
"I should go" he said softly. Harry blinked, and leaped out of bed.  
  
"Not without me!"  
  
"You're ill!"  
  
"I feel better. And I hate it in here. Oh c'mon, Draco."  
  
Shrugging, Draco allowed the other boy to bounce out in front of him, wondering how he could become so happy from so miserable just a few minutes earlier.  
  
********************************************************  
  
Severus sat in his study, remembering things that he wished he didn't. In front of him lay a yearbook, showing pictures of smiling witches and wizards. One in particular, a young witch named Hazalea Frothwick. A quiet, kind girl, for a Slytherin. Very good at charms, Severus remembered. A chaser on the Quidditch team, although never great at the sport. Now there was a black outline to her photo, which was smiling slightly. Now he could see how fake the smile was. She had left 5 years after Severus arrived, and committed suicide. Suicide was so rare in the wizarding community that it had caused a wide-spread ripple of concern. And to none more so than Severus.  
  
After her death, being her head of House, he had enquired with her parents about her death. Suspicious of their apathy, he had asked friends about her home life. None of them knew - she had never invited friends over to her house, or talked about her parents. It was not until her diary was found in pile of school books that the truth came out; that she had been emotionally abused by her parents from a young age, and had joined the Death Eaters in an attempt to make them care for her. It had backfired and they had been furious. Leaving the school, she had fallen into despair, and killed herself with Avada Kedavra. Severus had never truly forgiven himself for never getting to know her, even though the rational part of his mind told him that if her friends hadn't known then nobody else could have.  
  
The girl in the photograph smiled cryptically and turned away, and Severus closed the album with a sigh. He would be late for his lessons.  
  
*****************************************************  
  
Harry had stopped coming to Transfiguration now. He had such a talent for it that it was decided he was superfluous to the lessons, and he spent the time reading in the library, or practising any other subjects with a free teacher. He had found an interest in Arithmancy, and spent many free lessons poring over numerology charts. He had tried to explain it to Draco, but the other boy had no idea what he was talking about, so he soon gave up. Talking to Professor Sinastra helped; she explained that the actual focus of Arithmancy was answering questions through contacting currents of information that ran though the air, invisible and intangible to anyone but the most astute of Arithmancers.  
  
It was odd, seeing as Harry had always found maths at Muggle School tricky, but Arithmancy came easily. As such, he could only find answers to the most basic questions; what colour hair he had, where Crabbe and Goyle were. More soul-searching ones would require him to bare his soul to the power of the stones. He had tried, once, to let them suck him in, but the rushing wind and constant pulling had been too much power for him to handle and he was scared to try again.  
  
Just then he heard the sound of rushing footsteps, and levered himself out of the comfy chair he had transfigured in the Library. He had charms next, which was boring. He didn't find it as amazingly simple as Transfiguration, mainly because they moved so slowly through the work that everyone could do everything they had covered, and there seemed to be no room for improvement. But still, it was an opportunity to see Draco.  
  
Standing up, he had to pause for a moment to control his dizziness. He had not eaten that day, stupidly. It just didn't occur to him; he was never hungry because he was so unused to having food in his stomach. Conversely, the nagging emptiness in his stomach gave him focus and concentration. It was rather a nice feeling.  
  
"Draco" he called, hurrying up the corridor to catch up with his friend. Draco turned around looking curiously at Harry.  
  
"Are you alright? You're walking all wavy."  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Looking forwards to charms?"  
  
Draco stuck his tongue out playfully, and neither of them noticed the dark eyes following them around the corner.  
  
***********************************************  
  
Severus had nearly run into Harry coming out of the Library, and had been going to speak to him when Harry sped up and wove his way down the corridor. He didn't look steady on his feet; unsurprising, seeing as he should still be in the Infirmary with the fever he was running. Draco said something in concern, and Harry brushed it off smoothly before the two boys walked off to their next lesson, and Severus watched, suspicious as ever.  
  
**************************************************  
  
"Now, we will be practising Wingardium Leviosa again today" squeaked Flitwick, and Harry rolled his eyes. Immediately he froze, remembering what had happened at the Dursleys when he had pulled faces, but no pain seemed to be forthcoming.  
  
"Again" grumbled Draco. "Honestly, if my father knew, I don't know what he'd say."  
  
Harry sneered, shocking himself with his cynicism. He loved Draco dearly in a brotherly way, but his high-class upbringing really stood out sometimes and annoyed the hell out of Harry. Sometimes Draco could just sound like Dudley, obnoxious and spoilt, and it was one of Harry's pet hates.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Flitwick glared at Harry, who glared back, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Draco.  
  
"If you don't mind, we are working on the levitating charm."  
  
"Yes sir" said Harry insolently, leaning back casually. Flitwick looked like he wanted to make something of it, but was disturbed by a Gryffindor girl's hand going up.  
  
"Please, sir, what do we do when we've mastered this?"  
  
Flitwick smiled kindly on her, all twinkling.  
  
"Well, come and see me, and we'll find you something a bit more exciting."  
  
"Sir" said Harry, raising his hand, "I've done it too."  
  
"Indeed? Well, let me see then?"  
  
Harry levitated the feather so it floated a little above his desk. Flicking his wand, it traced a pattern above Harry's head before he cancelled the spell and allowed it to drift down onto the desk.  
  
"Yes yes, very good. Mr Potter, keep working on it, Miss Granger, you may try a Banishing Hex."  
  
Harry flushed with anger, and Draco would have risen to complain had Harry not pulled him back down.  
  
"That was a perfect charm! Why wouldn't he let you do something else?"  
  
Harry shrugged, gritting his teeth. He already disliked the arrogant Gryffindor witch who was now looking over at him with ill-concealed pride. He smirked dangerously back at her, and unlocked the tight hold he kept on his power. The power that Lucius and Draco had felt on the first day they met him. Beside him, Draco stiffened and edged away. Harry's eyes glowed in an almost unearthly way before he reigned his power back in, just using a little more than usual to levitate not only his feather, but every other one in the room. They stuck to the ceiling, fluttering slightly in the wind of power that flowed around Harry. He smiled, sweetly, and allowed the feathers to drift down to the table.  
  
"Sorry, lost control a little" he said innocently and grinned. He certainly wasn't expecting Flitwick's reaction.  
  
"Class dismissed" he said tersely. "Potter, come with me. Someone request Professor Snape to come to the Headmaster's office immediately, whatever lesson he is in."  
  
Chattering in hushed voices, the students all filtered out, as Flitwick escorted Harry towards the Headmaster's office, an indiscernible expression on his usually jolly face. 


	13. A Talk With Dumbledore

Okaaaay, well first of all, sorry this is so late in coming out. But there are about 5 chapters here, which kinda makes up for it? I don't know where this is going, I feel totally uninspired, and was thinking about scrapping it but for all the lovely reviews I've had. So basically I'll try and write more, but don't promise. Hope you enjoy!  
  
"Harry Potter" said Dumbledore slowly, regarding Harry over the top of his half-moon glasses. "I hear that you and Filius had an altercation?"  
  
"No sir" said Harry steadily, wishing fervently that Severus was there. "There was no argument. I just did a spell a little too strongly."  
  
Dumbledore gazed piercingly at Harry before his face softened.  
  
"Do you feel that lessons are moving too slowly then?"  
  
Uncertainly, Harry nodded, and Dumbledore waved him to continue.  
  
"Well, it seems like Professor Flitwick is holding me back. . .I can do all the charms fine, but he keeps making me re-do them even when they're fine."  
  
Dumbledore twinkled at the ambitious young man.  
  
"Well, I'm sure I will have a word with him, Harry. It will all work out, don't you worry."  
  
Harry nodded slightly cynically, and Dumbledore looked at him.  
  
"If there's anything you need, Harry. . .feel free to come and see me. I am here to help."  
  
Harry nodded and left.  
  
**************************************************  
  
As he stood outside the door, catching his breath, a wave of something rushed over him, and his knees buckled. Suddenly breathing seemed like a really tall order. Gods, he was going to die. He couldn't breath; his muscles spasmed and he choked.  
  
And it relaxed. Tentatively he opened an eye, and found himself staring at concrete.  
  
"What the. . .?"  
  
He looked around, but the corridor was deserted. And then another wave of it eclipsed his nose and mouth, but he was all alone; and out of the trembling and sickness, came an overwhelming sense of not wanting to be here. All the bad thoughts and memories he had ever had came rushing back, and he felt as though they were eating away at him from the inside. He needed punishing. He was so bad, so naughty. That's what Vernon had said.  
  
(Freak!)  
  
Blood. Harry looked dazedly at the red stuff marking the wall where he had slammed his head into it. Blood. The essence of life. he was made up of it. he was real. The pain helped him to focus slightly, although he still felt like there was a gap between him and the rest of the world, rather like trying to move underwater. He was still alive, just in a way detached from the universe. Blood. Pain. He felt a small smile come over his face.  
  
Jerked out of his thoughts by a hand, he almost cried out in surprise.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
It was Severus. Just Severus. Harry meant to say 'Yes?' or 'hello' or something sensible. But what comes out of your mouth when you are tense is rarely if ever sensible, and so Harry blurted out possibly the most stupid thing he could have done.  
  
"Blood."  
  
Severus gasped and gripped hold of Harry's wrists.  
  
"What have you done?"  
  
Harry blinked at him in confusion, and Severus stared at the clear wrists.  
  
"You said blood" he enunciated clearly. "What blood?"  
  
Harry gestured to his head, stunned into silence by the grief-stricken expression that had come over Severus' face.  
  
"Go to the infirmary then" replied the man curtly, and swept off, heart racing. Gods, he had thought. . .the look on Harry's face. . .blood. . .  
  
****************************************************  
  
Harry sat silently as Pomfrey bustled around, flicking her wand at different potions.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I stumbled down the stairs" he said, surprised at how easily the lies tumbled out of his mouth. "I hit my head on the wall at the bottom."  
  
Well, it was partly the truth, he thought guiltily as Pomfrey bandaged his head. It was just. . .the blood had felt so good. . .had served as proof of his continued existence.  
  
"Well, that's sorted out then. And I don't want to see you in here for at least two weeks, alright?"  
  
Harry nodded as she waved an admonishing finger, and gratefully fled to the dormitories.  
  
After he had quickly dressed, he skipped down the stairs three at a time as he hastened to reach herbology on time. He didn't, and Professor Sprout gave him a cold look.  
  
"However you may wish to treat other members of the staff, Potter, I demand your respect and attention, is that understood?"  
  
Harry nodded, casting his eyes down, and wondered what had happened; where everything had gone so wrong. Why all the teachers in the corridors moved away from him; why Flitwick had been so upset. Why none of the other students met his eyes.  
  
He made his way through Herbology quickly and as accurately as he could, being as careful as possible not to make any mistakes or show off any power. Draco was the only one who would talk to him; the rest of the class clamoured for the furthest benches, and tried not to look at him. If they did, it was only a furtive glance here and there, quickly retracted at any sign of the tousle-headed boy turning.  
  
It shouldn't have stung so much; Harry was used to rejection. He had never been able to make any friends in the Muggle world because they were all too scared of Dudley. And quite rightly too. The fat boy was terrifying.  
  
Hang on.  
  
Why would DUDLEY be terrifying? It was Vernon who hurt him. Or Petunia. As quickly as it had come, the flash of foreboding vanished, and Harry shook his head slightly.  
  
**************************************************************  
  
He tried to apologise to Professor Flitwick. The man accepted his apology, but the cold look remained on his face still, and if anything he held Harry back more than some of the other students. He just didn't understand. But there was one thing he could do. . .  
  
***************************************************************  
  
Lucius Malfoy took a sip of iced tea and eyed the unknown owl suspiciously. He had enough enemies for him to be wary of anything that flew through the gates of Malfoy Manor unannounced. However when the owl drew near he could see the Hogwarts seal on it. The letter was swiftly deposited into his hand, and the owl flew into the Owlery, sensibly not expecting a treat from the regal-looking man. Lucius regarded the letter curiously, and slid an ornate letter-knife underneath the seal. A childish scrawl peered out from the yellowed parchment, and he began to read.  
  
'Dear Lucius,  
  
I am very sorry to bother you with something so trivial, as I know you must have a lot on your mind. However I have a problem that I cannot approach any Hogwarts staff about. I got angry in a charms class and levitated all of the feathers in the classroom onto the ceiling. Professor Flitwick was furious and took me to the Headmaster. Now all of the teachers hate me and I don't know why. Dumbledore won't say. Do you have any idea? Have I done something terribly wrong?  
  
Again, I am sorry to bother you with something so inconsequential, but I am very worried.  
  
Yours Faithfully,  
  
Harry Potter'  
  
Lucius stroked his smooth chin thoughtfully.  
  
"Dobby!" he called. With a pop, a small creature with massive eyes and ears appeared.  
  
"Yes sir? What can Dobby get for master Lucius?"  
  
"A brush."  
  
Moments later, Dobby re-appeared carrying a silver tray with a ivory-backed horse-hair brush on it. Lucius began to run the brush in long strokes down his hair, smoothing out any slight tangles in the blond mane.  
  
"And my writing equipment" he said, placing the brush back on the platter. With a small bow, Dobby popped out of the room and reappeared with a selection of quills, papers and seals. When he had selected a silver-tipped quill and a bottle of black ink, Lucius gestured for Dobby to leave the stamps and one sheet of parchment on the table before dismissing him.  
  
'Dear Harry,  
  
It is a pleasure to hear from you. I do believe I can explain this phenomenon, but there is one condition, and I trust that you are a boy of your word. Draco is not to know.  
  
You will, of course, know of Lord Voldemort. The Dark Wizard who killed your parents. You may not know that he went to Hogwarts, and indeed seemed like a very nice young man. His name was Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle. I'm sure you can guess where his later name came from.  
  
The reason people are so upset by this is the similarity between you. Both orphaned at a young age; both bitter with your guardians. Both in Slytherin. Of course, this has already been enough to get people worried. But your display of power is not dissimilar to something that Tom did before leaving, except on a smaller scale. He had an argument with Dumbledore himself, and hexed the old man. This was no laughing matter, although not seriously dangerous. You see, Albus Dumbledore is and was a most powerful wizard. Perhaps moreso than Voldemort, now. Who knows?  
  
Tom's spell was designed to show off; to challenge. A threatening gesture. It is understandable that Flitwick and indeed the rest of the teachers were alarmed. To your generation, it is a different matter. You could not imagine the bitterness of the battle; the losses on both sides, before Lord Voldemort fell. The magical world is sworn to never let this happen again.  
  
Do not blame yourself, Harry. You were not to know. But in the future, perhaps keep your power to yourself, if only to keep your enemies ignorant.  
  
Best Wishes,  
  
Lucius Malfoy.'  
  
He waved his wand at a block of wax.  
  
"Thermo"  
  
It melted, and he scooped a little up, pressing it down on the rolled-up parchment, and then stamped down the Malfoy seal, a crest with a serpent's head on it.  
  
"Frigo" he snapped, and the wax instantly hardened. As an afterthought;  
  
"Secutor Harry Potter"  
  
Looking at the parchment for a moment longer, he snapped his fingers and the owl came flying back. He fastened the parchment to it's leg, and, uncertain of whether he was making the right choice, sent it away with an expansive sweep of his hand.  
  
And he brooded.  
  
************************************************************  
  
Draco sat at the window, looking broodingly out onto the Quidditch Pitch. Well, brooding wasn't really the word. Jealously might have been more apt. Harry had taken his place on the team. He just knew that his father would be annoyed. He had been so proud of himself; becoming one of the youngest players to become a seeker. . .and that stupid Gryffindor had not only made him ill, but had given Harry the chance to shine. It just wasn't fair.  
  
As he watched, Harry swooped above his team-mates and caught the snitch, to applause from them all. As the watery sunlight glinted off Harry's white teeth and the golden snitch, Draco turned away, unable to bear it. 


	14. Arguments

As Draco stared moodily at his Charms essay that was due in tomorrow, he was distracted by tapping on the window. He scraped his chair back and wrenched it open, taking some pleasure in the glass smashing against the window.  
  
"Reparo" he muttered, and the shards fell back into place. A school owl came flapping in and deposited a letter on the pile of books that Harry had been working with before he had gone to Quidditch practice. It was surprising; Harry had nobody he knew in the wizarding world. In fact, it was surprising enough for Draco to shoo the owl out of the window in the general direction of the Owlery and inspect the scroll.  
  
It had his father's seal on it.  
  
Deciding that the owl must have made a mistake, Draco began to tug the wax off but stopped abruptly as he felt it burn at his fingers. Charmed against intruders. Furious and not a little confused, he grabbed the letter more forcefully than was probably necessary and went outside to search for his friend.  
  
**************************************************  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Harry swooped down on his broom, landing right next to Draco. His hair was even more windswept than usual, his cheeks reddened by the fresh air. Draco couldn't smile at the contented look on his friend's face today.  
  
"Hi Draco!"  
  
"Open it" said the blond-haired boy curtly. Confused, Harry unrolled the parchment, and his eyes lit up.  
  
"Oh, it's from your father."  
  
"Yes, I gathered that."  
  
Harry looked up at the glowering boy, unable to mistake his curt tone for anything but hostility. Draco's already short temper snapped.  
  
"Why the fuck is he sending you letters that I can't read?" and then, at the baffled look on Harry's face, "It's charmed against me opening it."  
  
"I. . .I had to ask him something. But I don't know why it's sealed against you."  
  
"Well read it out then" said Draco, folding his arms arrogantly across his chest. Harry bristled visibly, and shook his head stubbornly.  
  
"There must have been a reason it's sealed. Let me read it first."  
  
Draco made a snatch for the letter and again felt his hands burnt. Furious, he raised his hand without thinking, and Harry cowered back with a startled gasp. They stared at each other, frozen, for a few moments before Draco forced a sneer onto his face and swept off, leaving Harry alone on the pitch. As though to empathise, the dark clouds which had been hovering bunched together, and there was a rumble of thunder before the rain started. Draco was already inside the castle as the first spot hit Harry's glasses, making a big smear on the lens. Angrily he wiped it away, and stomped off towards the changing rooms.  
  
The rooms were deserted; Harry had already been the last player out even before Draco had held him up. Sighing unhappily, Harry stripped off his robes and turned one of the showers on. It was pleasantly warm as he stepped under the flow of water, but he angrily turned it up two notches. Instantly the water began to sting as it hit his slender body, branding little spots of pain on him. But he didn't want to move, didn't want to leave the pain. It was helping him feel alive.  
  
He shifted slightly so that the boiling jet struck his feet which were already reddened by the cold. The burning sensation felt like a breath of fresh air.  
  
He was so fucking useless! He had made Draco and Severus and all the teachers hate him, and he was so useless that he didn't even know how he'd done it! His mind returned to the letter which might contain the answers to his problems. What had he done with it?  
  
Furious with himself for being so stupid as to leave an important document lying around - Vernon had drilled that into him enough times - Harry turned the temperature up further and winced as the scorching spray attacked his skin. Gods, it hurt so much. But as half of his mind instructed him to move, and half of his muscles tried to obey, the other side told him it was what he deserved. Caught between the two, he stood frozen in the jet of scalding water. A paradox, he remembered that being called. Two opposites.  
  
His mind went numb. The steam now encompassed his vision, misting up his glasses, choking his lungs. He began to see spots in front of his eyelids, gasping for air. And then finally his legs worked, and he stumbled out of the stifling heat, his knees going weak as he leaned on the cold tiled wall, seeking support. The coldness burnt his back in an entirely different way; more like the icy tendrils of fear that all too often encompassed him. The shower, the heat, had been like anger. Feeling the fury of something beating down on him. He liked that better than the fear. It meant that the end was near.  
  
Shaking his head, he was about to change before he realised that he hadn't actually washed himself. He was still grimy from the practice. He turned down the temperature a little, enough to hurt but not to suffocate him again, and began lathering up the soap, still hating the feel of even his own hands on his body. Still cringing away from himself. Grimacing, he finished his torso as quickly as possible, and scrubbed at his feet, watching the mud disappear down the drain in a swirl. If only it was that easy to purge the ugliness from himself; the badness. Vernon had always said it would be easier to punish him if Harry knew that he was wrong. Well now he did. So bad. So naughty.  
  
He massaged shampoo into his scalp and rinsed it quickly, suddenly feeling repulsed every time he saw his body. It was so. . .perfect. The bruises were gone. He was all unblemished, pale skin, and it sickened him, that he was so ugly and disgusting inside and yet so flawless outside. Shuddering, he wrapped a towel around himself, hiding his offending body, and gently rubbed himself dry. His feet burned and stung, red and raw from the abuse of the water. They were swollen and painful as he pulled his socks on gently. He must have burnt them quite badly.  
  
When Harry had finished dressing, he pulled the letter out of the pocket of his Quidditch robes which he then put in the basket for washing that was left to be collected by the house-elves in the morning, and opened it.  
  
'Dear Harry,  
  
It is a pleasure to hear from you. I do believe I can explain this phenomenon, but there is one condition, and I trust that you are a boy of your word. Draco is not to know.  
  
You will, of course, know of Lord Voldemort. The Dark Wizard who killed your parents. You may not know that he went to Hogwarts, and indeed seemed like a very nice young man. His name was Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle. I'm sure you can guess where his later name came from.  
  
The reason people are so upset by this is the similarity between you. Both orphaned at a young age; both bitter with your guardians. Both in Slytherin. Of course, this has already been enough to get people worried. But your display of power is not dissimilar to something that Tom did before leaving, except on a smaller scale. He had an argument with Dumbledore himself, and hexed the old man. This was no laughing matter, although not seriously dangerous. You see, Albus Dumbledore is and was a most powerful wizard. Perhaps moreso than Voldemort, now. Who knows?  
  
Tom's spell was designed to show off; to challenge. A threatening gesture. It is understandable that Flitwick and indeed the rest of the teachers were alarmed. To your generation, it is a different matter. You could not imagine the bitterness of the battle; the losses on both sides, before Lord Voldemort fell. The magical world is sworn to never let this happen again.  
  
Do not blame yourself, Harry. You were not to know. But in the future, perhaps keep your power to yourself, if only to keep your enemies ignorant.  
  
Best Wishes,  
  
Lucius Malfoy.'  
  
***************************************************  
  
He rubbed his forehead. So this was what it was. Well, at least it made sense. Of course, it didn't help him much, because he couldn't explain to Draco what the letter said, and he couldn't persuade his teachers that he wasn't the next Dark Lord. But all the same, it was reassuring to know that it wasn't entirely his fault.  
  
whispered an insidious part of his conscience.   
  
Harry nodded to himself. It was true. It was all his fault. And he'd be in even more trouble if he didn't get into the Tower before curfew. The last thing he wanted for the Slytherins to think was that he fancied himself as some sort of outlaw. Although he was still a newcomer to the world of magic, he had some common sense, and could see that the thing that made the Slytherin house so close to one another was their idea of sharing power, so that in general no one person was a 'leader'. Of course, small groups existed where characters like Crabbe and Goyle were quite clearly underlings of Draco, but even that was more of a 'scratch-my-back-and-I'll- scratch-yours' deal than a hierarchy. Without his two bodyguards, Draco would be in trouble with other houses, and without the brains of Draco, Crabbe and Goyle would never pass their exams.  
  
It worked well.  
  
Slipping his feet into his school shoes, he winced slightly as the tender skin rubbed against the leather, and hobbled out of the doors. It was still raining heavily, but when he thought about it, a rain-repelling charm was really quite a clever idea, and thus he got inside dry as a bone. He checked his watch; 3 minutes until curfew. Taking the steps two at a time, and nearly breaking his neck in his haste, he reached the Common Room on the second of curfew, and slumped down with a sigh.  
  
Then the doors to the dormitories opened and Snape stalked out, a glare on his face.  
  
"Where have you been? It is an hour past curfew!"  
  
Harry gaped at his watch. Surely not. . .nobody would have. . .  
  
"But sir, my watch says it's. . ."  
  
Snape frowned.  
  
"I will let it slide, Potter. Make sure it doesn't happen again. Bed now."  
  
And, maintaining his sour expression, he pointed towards the door. Miserably, Harry trotted up the stairs.  
  
Why did all this happen to him?  
  
whispered the nasty voice. 


	15. Of Orbs and Snakes

As he reached the top of the stairs, he ran straight into Draco who was on his way down.  
  
"Draco, I. . ."  
  
"Nec plura his" said Draco, allowing a glimmer of a smile into his grey eyes. Harry looked confused, but Draco didn't elaborate, instead beckoning him to follow him down to the Common Room. Harry complied, and Draco smirked as they crossed the richly furnished room. He reached a slender, pale hand behind a cushion and drew something out. Harry moved closer cautiously to look at it. It was an orb, silver in colour, with a shimmering glow. It was cool, very cool to the touch, but if you squinted then a liquid purple centre could be seen.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Draco smirked again and tapped his nose.  
  
"That's for my father to know and us to find out. Going to help?"  
  
Harry grinned.  
  
"Try and stop me!"  
  
****************************************************  
  
Lucius allowed a small gleam to come into his eye as he watched the boys admire the ball. It was, indeed, a fine present, and hopefully enough to pacify his son, who was obviously displeased that his father was keeping secrets from him.  
  
The orb was a rare one, and quite possibly classed as Dark Magic, which is why Lucius had given his son strict instructions to keep it hidden. Unfortunately, his idea of 'hidden' seemed to clash with Draco's, and he had winced seeing it placed behind a cushion in the Common Room. Even more unfortunately, he was unable to tell Draco to move it, because that would completely spoil the fun of spying on Draco until he - or Harry - figured it out. Already they had broken the cardinal sin of unknown objects, and had touched it. Honestly! What was Dumbledore playing at? It could have been cursed or poisoned, it could have been a Portkey, and the stupid boys had their grubby hands all over it already.  
  
Just when he was about to give up on his son ever using his brain, Lucius noticed Harry shaking his head as they went to put it back, and gesturing. He couldn't make out what they were saying; the orb was not a good quality spying-ball, and the boys were whispering, but the ball was turned over, and all Lucius could see was the floor. He moved closer, but to no avail. Wondering whether there was any chance of the two moving his to somewhere more comfortable, he leaned back in his plush chair, steepled his fingers, and waited, his cool face hidden behind a sheet of icy-blond hair.  
  
*******************************************************  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. If this was a test from his father, and he had no doubt that it was, then it was not going well. Harry was right; he had picked a pathetic hiding place. And Potter had touched the orb, which was one of the most stupid things to do with an unknown object. It could have been cursed, or poisoned - hell, it could even have been a Portkey!  
  
But the most pressing concern now was to find a secret place. Harry was leaning heavily against the wall.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Ssh!" hissed the other boy. "I think I've found something!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's a hollow of some sort. I think. . ."  
  
Draco never did get to find what Harry thought as the other boy sucked his breath in sharply and snatched his hand back. he was facing away from Draco, but long years of living in a large house had given Draco a head- start on careful listening, and he could hear Harry cursing.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Nothing" said Harry, a little too quickly, not turning. Draco frowned and moved forwards but Harry spun away from him.  
  
"Draco, it's nothing. But that's not a good place to use."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because" he replied shortly, well aware that he sounded petulant and childish. He didn't care. Draco, apparently, did. He grabbed Harry's shoulders hard, and spun him around, simultaneously catching sight of his hand.  
  
"Fuck!" he exclaimed, grasping the wrist. "What did that?"  
  
Harry couldn't answer - his mouth felt suddenly dry, and the world spun around him. As everything dissolved into whiteness, he could hear Draco calling out to him, but couldn't reply.  
  
****************************************************  
  
Severus had been asleep. It had been a nice sleep too, free of irritating Gryffindors and worrying Slytherins who he wanted to help but couldn't. Or at least, it had been a nice sleep until one of the aforementioned Slytherins had come banging on his door. Checking the time (1.30am) he felt a crisis coming. Nobody except the suicidal or those in a crisis would dare disturb him at this time. And surely being suicidal implied a crisis?  
  
Growling, he opened the door, and his face instantly relaxed when he saw Draco. Of all the Slytherins, Draco was a favourite. His friendship with Lucius had remained strong over the course of the years, and Draco was a very well brought-up young man. He was also one of the few people who seemed to hold any respect for Severus.  
  
However his sympathy for the boy was suspended when Draco, clutching at his side, gasped out that Harry was in the Hospital Wing (again!) and that it was serious, and that Severus was needed immediately with all the anti- venom potions he possessed.  
  
Stirring himself into action, Severus threw on a robe over his nightshirt and allowed his hands to drift above the potions as he mentally calculated which ones would be needed. Finally, hands full of potions, he cast a levitation spell on them and hurried up to the infirmary. The first thing he saw was Dumbledore looking pale and wan. Draco was trembling, and Pomfrey crying. Fearing the worst, Severus nearly dropped the potions until Pomfrey moved aside, and he saw Harry writhing on the bed in agony. They had been forced to strap him down, but even now he nearly broke the restraints. He foamed at the mouth, and every so often would let out an awful shriek, opening his eyes to display bloodshot whites and unfocussed pupils.  
  
For almost half an hour, Severus tipped potion after potions down his throat. It was a snake bite, they knew that, and had been obtained in the Common Room, but when Draco touched the same piece of wall that Harry had investigated, there was no sign of a hidden niche. Severus didn't think Draco had been lying, or even wrong, but without the knowledge of which snake they were dealing with there was no way of knowing which potion to use. The only consolation was that if it had been a very venomous snake, Harry would be dead by now.  
  
After all the potions had been utilised to no effect, all Severus could do was restrain Harry and send Draco back to bed with the reassurance that Harry would be alright, and if Draco could be of any help then Severus would call him. Draco didn't look as though he believed the older man, but he nodded and at least left the infirmary. Immediately Severus dropped the calm expression, and ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"Albus, Poppy, have you any ideas?"  
  
The witch and wizard both shook their heads, looking both confused and worried. Pomfrey would sporadically take Harry's temperature and shake her head, tutting, but other than that they sat in silence, wincing collectively every time a fresh wave of pain assaulted Harry.  
  
In the morning, Severus was the first to wake up. Angry - no, furious - that he could have fallen asleep when Harry was so ill, he immediately got up to hear the sound of retching from the bathroom. Stretching out his stiff limbs, he hurried through and caught Harry just as he seemed to be falling backwards. He arched an eyebrow wryly and supported Harry as the boy threw up again, before asking,  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
It was, admittedly, a stupid question, but he hadn't expected Harry to leap away from him as though on fire. Confused, and irrationally hurt, he released the boy.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Harry shook his head.  
  
"Mustn't cry" he whimpered. "All hate me. Even warmth hates me."  
  
Severus blinked and then understood. He was 'warmth' - Harry had once said so.  
  
"Harry, I don't hate you. Not at all. Come on. . .you must be cold."  
  
He touched Harry's hand, feeling it's iciness, and practically lifted his charge.  
  
"Good lord, do you eat?"  
  
Harry didn't reply, and Severus found it easier to imagine that he was just asleep. At any rate, Harry seemed to be out of mortal danger.  
  
For the time being.  
  
5 points to anyone who can get the meaning of 'nec plura his', another 20 on top of that if you can tell me which book it comes from, and the author. Oh go on, I'll make it a really good prize. Hmm *considers* your choice of Harry, Sev or Draco in the material of your choice, and I will send you the first half of my new angsty-Harry story which I haven't yet posted. 


	16. Discoveries

Harry relaxed in Severus' arms and pretended to shut his eyes. He had to suppress a shudder as the man's hands slid over his arse as he lay him on the bed, and as he did so he felt a burning sensation through his veins. And then an irrational fury took him over, and he tensed with the feeling.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry's eyes flashed open with such a look of pure venom that Madam Pomfrey stepped back slightly, pale. Severus caught her arm and supported her whilst looking at Harry.  
  
There was an enraged look on his face, his eyes gleaming with malevolence. Suddenly the forest green of his eyes resembled the killing-light, and Severus himself shuddered, trying not to turn away from the evil look. He had never imagined such a vulnerable boy could look so nasty.  
  
And then he hissed.  
  
*********************************************  
  
Harry watched with a sneer as the woman turned her face away, shocked, horrified, and was caught by the man. Stupid humans, he thought scornfully. Then the dark man turned and looked at Harry, and would not avert his gaze, although he looked suddenly shocked by something.  
  
Harry laughed - or at least he meant to - but all that came out was a hiss.  
  
************************************************  
  
Draco came flying into the room clutching something in his hand, and Severus forced his eyes off Harry to look at Draco.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, more sharply than he meant to. Draco didn't seem perturbed though, holding out the snake. It took Severus a good three seconds to react, and then he snatched the snake out of Draco's hand, examining it closely. Iesos, how had one of those got into Hogwarts? It was poisonous, alright. So poisonous that Harry should have been dead within the minute he had been bitten.  
  
Severus looked up just in time to see Harry lunging for Draco.  
  
****************************************************  
  
Draco sat in the common room, wondering if Harry was alright, when he heard a hissing sound from behind him. Nearly jumping out of his skin, he leaped out of the chair to see a snake slithering across the floor. Not even thinking about the risk it posed to himself, he grabbed his charms book and moved forwards. As he did so, the snake, sensing his approach, turned with an angry hiss and began sliding towards him. Not even thinking, Draco raised the book and slammed it on the menacing snake's head. With a crunch, the hissing and slithering stopped instantly, and Draco froze. God, he had just killed something. Something totally innocent. He was a murderer.  
  
Horrified, he stood staring at the body for some minutes before plucking it from the ground and racing up to the infirmary. Please, god, he prayed, let it be the right snake, the one that hurt Harry. Please don't let me be a murderer in vain.  
  
He reached the airy room in time to see Severus locking eyes with Harry, but didn't stop, thrusting the snake at Severus. The man looked blankly at it for a few moments, before finally blinking and examining it. Just as Draco was looking away to see where Pomfrey was, he heard a creak and whipped his head back to the bed to see Harry lunging at him, a look of pure hatred on his face.  
  
********************************************************  
  
"STUPID SNAKES" roared a voice in Harry's ear, sibilant and sly. "Stupid men, thinking they are powerful. They do not know the meaning of power, little one. Shall we show them power?"  
  
Harry shook his head dazedly. Draco was his friend. He wasn't meant to attack Draco, was he? But it just felt so right, it felt like what he needed to do. The stupid boy deserved it.  
  
No! No, he didn't. What had Draco ever done?  
  
Harry felt sick. It was like there was someone else inside his brain, controlling his actions. He could feeling a rushing in his ears, and spots danced in front of his eyes. And, as he always did in times of pain or danger, he froze and backed away. Not physically this time though; he retreated inside his mind, and watched through his own eyes as his body propelled itself across the bed towards Draco.  
  
********************************************************  
  
"Harry!" cried Draco, stumbling back as Harry's clammy hands found their way around his throat in a choking grip. Without even thinking, Severus whipped out his wand and stunned Harry. The boy fell to the floor, his limbs stiff, and Severus cautiously pushed him over. He was indeed fully stunned.  
  
His more pressing concern was then to deal with Draco, who was pale and shivering.  
  
"God, sir, he feels like. . .like death. All cold and clammy."  
  
Severus looked sharply at Draco.  
  
"Lie down" he said brusquely, gesturing towards a bed. If Draco was surprised by the command he didn't show it, shedding his robes and shoes and lying down. His eyes drooped but he didn't relax and Severus could feel the grey eyes on him, watching. Meanwhile, Severus was dissecting Draco's comment. Like death. . .cold and clammy. . .  
  
He brushed a finger down Harry's palm and realised what Draco meant. It was just like touching a snake. . .as if Harry had read his mind, his eyes narrowed, giving him a very serpentine appearance. Severus jerked back before he realised what must have happened.  
  
As the snake had died, the venom inside Harry must have reacted somehow, embedding the spirit of the snake inside the boy. He had indeed heard about this. . .heard the rumours of spirits being able to transfer themselves, especially snakes. He had heard it a long time ago. . .  
  
"Sir?"  
  
He jerked his head, feeling his hair sweep around his shoulder, suddenly acutely aware of the feeling all over his body, and snatched his hand off the tattoo that lay on his forearm. Draco was looking at him calculatingly, and Severus glared.  
  
"Poppy!"  
  
Pomfrey came bustling in, visibly bristling at Severus' tone.  
  
"I need you to fetch the headmaster. Now."  
  
Draco supposed that Pomfrey had been on the wrong end of Snape's temper one time too many, because she obeyed with nothing more than a grumble under her breath. As she left, Severus leaned over Harry and grasped the hand which had been bitten. It was semi-healed, and he couldn't break the skin, as hard as he tried.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry's eyes didn't move, they were dull and staring at a point above his head, but Severus knew it was too dangerous to release him from the spell. He was worried, honestly not knowing how to get the venom out of Harry. The boy's skin had healed too quickly; obviously he was starting to benefit from the serpent's healing powers. The snake that Draco had brought it was undoubtedly one of the most potent in the world; how it had got into Hogwarts, Merlin only knew. Not only was it highly poisonous, it was very magical, and had a large capacity for magical transfer. Which meant it could, given time, leach out all of Harry's magic, taking over his body.  
  
Dumbledore chose that moment to arrive, startling Severus out of his thoughts. As expected, the old man understood exactly what had happened and the implications, his skin whitening a few shades. Severus frowned. Dumbledore was meant to have an answer!  
  
As though reading his mind, Dumbledore shook his head.  
  
"We cannot extract the venom, Severus. I am afraid it is utterly reliant on Mister Potter to overpower the spirit."  
  
"But Albus, it is a Marailas! You know it's potency!"  
  
Dumbledore looked icily at Severus.  
  
"Trust me, Severus, if there was anything I could do then I would. Much as you like to believe everyone is set against you and your Slytherins, we are not. I resent the implication that I do not care equally for every child in our care."  
  
Severus hung his head, knowing that Dumbledore was right. And, for lack of anything to do, he laid Harry back on the bed and waited. 


	17. Fighting

Harry opened his eyes. It was dark. No, dark was the wrong word. It was pitch black, the sort of blackness that haunted you at night, chilling the very bones in your body into icicles, and freezing your heart into spasms of fear. And he was alone.  
  
The tremors stopped before he was even conscious of them, but then returned. He wrapped his arms around himself in vain, trying to hold his body still, trying to be big and brave and trying not to be afraid of the dark.  
  
There must be an exit somewhere. He squinted into the darkness, trying to control his breathing. There was. . .company. He wasn't sure what, but something was with him. He could feel it's presence as you feel an impending storm; not safe, and yet not offering harm. For the moment.  
  
He took a hesitant step and retracted it more quickly than he would believe possible as he heard a hissing from beneath his foot. The one hiss was joined by many more, forming a cacophony. It sounded dangerous and intimidating, but conversely he didn't feel afraid.  
  
"Why am I here?" he asked, but the words didn't come out. All that escaped his lips was a hiss. Angry, he tried to talk again.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
Still only the sibilant sound of his hissing joined in with the snakes. They wouldn't stop, and he suddenly felt the urge to clap his hands over his ears. But he didn't. He concentrated. If he listened hard enough then he could hear the rise and fall of the sounds, making waves and patterns in the air. It sounded like they were repeating something.  
  
"Help" he whispered, and there was silence, and he looked around. A slight grey light had appeared around the enclosure, and he could see all the small snakes. Their coils were rotting and grey, and their eyes dull with death. He didn't have to repress a shudder though; the corpses were not revolting. They just filled him with a great sadness.  
  
"Help us" they whispered, and he tried to stretch out his hands to them, but they recoiled. He stepped forwards; but still they retreated into the furthest shadows, and he stepped back in turn as they returned. He soon found out what they wanted him to do as the light abruptly darkened, and a much louder, deeper, more venomous sound was heard. He looked up; could feel the oppressive size of it closing in on him. God, he needed the light.  
  
"Come here, little snake boy" hissed the big snake. Harry moved forwards a step and his heart felt like it was being compressed, yet still the snake hissed platitudes at him, coaxing him on. As he got closer, the light grew brighter and he breathed a sigh of relief through tight lungs.  
  
"Look!" hissed a tiny voice and he and the large snake froze.  
  
"Don't look" she hissed, but Harry did. And as he looked, he could see a shadow of himself intermingled with the large snake. She was thickly coiled, crushing his shadow self and in turn growing, her coppery scales glinting and the light reflecting off the plasma on her teeth. Harry started and turned back.  
  
"No!"  
  
She darted off blocking his footsteps, and he halted, uncertainly. The little snakes had taken up a position at his feet; one was hissing at him. It was getting more and more simple to understand them by the second, and he could tell that the little snake was confirming his fears. . .  
  
He had been bitten by the large snake. . .soul transfer. . .dying. . .but did it really matter?  
  
"Yes" hissed his snake, curling around his ankle. The cool feel of scales on his skin jolted him back to earth. Of course he wanted to live. Of course he did. . .  
  
"Go away" he snarled, surprising even himself with the anger in his tone. The snake reared forwards, fangs bared, but Harry threw out his hand.  
  
"Go away!"  
  
It moved forwards, eyes narrowed in anger.  
  
"Oh no, little man. I will never go away. Not even for one who speaks the Snake Tongue. I will rule over you. I have waited so long. . .have been so hungry. . .master did not think to leave me a lasting supply of food, and so I have waited. . .and now I may have a body, it is granted to me. . ."  
  
"No! I do not grant you, snake!"  
  
There was a silence, a horribly oppressive silence. Harry wondered briefly why the hell they never addressed topical issues such as fighting an insane snake in your dreams in wizarding books. He would have to ask someone when he was back at Hogwarts.  
  
And out of the silence, there was suddenly a whistling of body through the air and something came into hard contact with Harry's face, bruising his cheek. Gasping, he stumbled backwards, hissing an apology as he stepped on one of the small snakes.  
  
"You see, all those that I have killed? Living off my young for all these years?"  
  
Harry grimaced, realising that all these snakes had been killed by the larger one - their mother.  
  
"You see them, you hear them. . .you are no more powerful than them. Mere human! Submit!"  
  
Harry could see that she was trying to crush his spirit, but somehow it was holding on. Panic rose I his throat, not knowing what to do next, and he looked around frantically.  
  
"Massster" hissed a little snake, the one wrapped around his ankle, and he paused.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You are powerful. Save yourself."  
  
And slowly the company faded, and Harry was aware of the large snake moving towards him, and he didn't hesitate before stretching his other palm out, channelling all his fury and terror into just destroying this one being.  
  
Sparks flew out of his open palm, and illuminated the snake for an instant, showing every detail of her golden coat and reddened fangs before the bright light faded to a natural glow and he opened his eyes again.  
  
***************************************************  
  
"Potter!"  
  
Harry blinked.  
  
"Hello"  
  
Pomfrey tutted, and began fussing around him.  
  
"I told you quite clearly that I didn't want to see you again!"  
  
Harry blushed, but didn't say anything. He noticed Snape beside his bed looking as though he hadn't slept in days and felt a pang of guilt. Dumbledore was arriving; he could feel the powerful magic moving through the school towards him.  
  
Swinging his legs out of bed, he stood up slightly shakily.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Severus.  
  
"Bathroom, sir" mumbled Harry. He thought he was allowed. . .Snape nodded and he hobbled off, his feet aching from the burning they had recently received. Having relieved his full bladder, he hobbled back into the main infirmary. Snape looked at him sharply.  
  
"What on earth happened to your feet?"  
  
Harry looked down, and saw how red and swollen they actually were. And then he noticed something else at precisely the same moment as Snape.  
  
"And when did you get that tattoo?"  
  
Wrapped around his ankle, exactly where the snake of his dreams had been, was a small black band with a visible head, and the tapering of a tail.  
  
"Fucking hell." 


	18. Decisions

Wow, I updated at last. I am having trouble deciding where to go next, but all the emails I got asking me to continue wore me down. . . sorry it's been such a long time!  
  
************************************************  
  
Harry looked at his ankle in horror. He didn't know how he was going to explain this. . .  
  
"Start with the tattoo" said Snape, massaging his temples. "How did you manage to get a tattoo, for Merlin's sake?"  
  
Harry tried to explain the dream. He was halfway through when Severus seemed to understand. His eyes glazed over a little and he nodded.  
  
"Hmm. . .that explains it. . ."  
  
"Explains what, sir?"  
  
Snape looked up sharply as though Harry had disturbed him from a deep sleep and then relaxed his features.  
  
"The venom should have killed you. But you merely lost consciousness. We knew there was something odd about that. I think. . .and I could well be wrong. . .but I think your spirit managed to fight the snake's venom. . .gods, I can't explain it!"  
  
It struck Harry that maybe Snape didn't like not being able to explain things.  
  
"Anyway, you're alive, and that's what is important."  
  
Harry felt something swell inside him, and a sorrowful look appeared on Snape's face. He moved closer to Harry.  
  
"Harry, I don't care what those stupid muggles said. You are so very important to so many people. Don't believe anyone who says otherwise, alright?"  
  
Harry looked at him with those huge eyes and was silent.  
  
"Harry, promise me you won't believe anyone who says otherwise."  
  
Harry nodded tentatively and looked away. Snape debated internally whether he should press the point, but didn't. Harry looked stressed enough already; his skin had taken on a waxy pallor and he looked as though he was trying to sink into the pillows. Deep down Severus knew he should leave the boy be, but he needed to know. . .  
  
"What happened to your feet?"  
  
Harry still didn't look at him, and Severus knew that whatever came out of his mouth would be a lie.  
  
"I think it was the dream. I was on hot coals."  
  
Severus looked at him appraisingly. It would certainly make sense, but the boy exhibited every sign of lying.  
  
"The burns are older than that" he commented, and while Harry tried not to tense up Snape could feel his muscles contracting beneath the sheets.  
  
"I don't remember doing anything" he said casually, and Snape knew he could not afford to force the issue; could not afford to panic Harry. He shrugged and put a hand on Harry's forehead.  
  
"Get some sleep" he said. "You must be exhausted. You're safe here."  
  
Harry nodded, and gently closed his eyes, but as soon as he heard Severus leave they flashed open again, darting around the room like cats-eyes. He wasn't safe here. He was never safe. No matter what they said, the darkness always got him in the end. He could not fall asleep. He would not allow it.  
  
Resolutely, he stared at the ceiling and wondered how soon Pomfrey would let him out.  
  
*************************************************  
  
"Ah, Severus. Tea?"  
  
Dumbledore seemed entirely oblivious to the pallor of Snape's face and the lines of tension creasing his brow.  
  
"NO" he ground out from between clenched teeth. "Thank you, headmaster."  
  
"Oh, very well. You don't mind if I do, do you?" at Snape's nod, he poured himself a cup of tea and leaned back, inhaling the fumes. "Ah, a joy to drink" he breathed. "Imported specially from china, you know. I think it has a certain. . ."  
  
Whatever certain something the tea had was never to be found out as Snape stood up angrily, upsetting the entire pot.  
  
"Albus, I need to talk to you, goddammit, and if you're going to insist on fiddling around with your tea things then I'm leaving."  
  
"There, there, Severus" soothed the headmaster. "I do apologise. Now, I presume you wanted to see me about Harry?"  
  
Snape nodded again, and tried to think how to put the extraordinary occurrence into words. He finally decided on the simple option.  
  
"Harry's spirit fought the snake's spirit and now he has a snake tattoo on his ankle."  
  
"Ah"  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments before Albus finally sat forwards.  
  
"Amazing as that is, I have the feeling something else is on your mind. Hmm?"  
  
Severus looked down, feeling inexplicably embarrassed.  
  
"I can't stop worrying about Harry. I feel entirely like a mother hen, but I'm certain he's holding things back from me. Things about his relatives, things about school. I want him to trust someone but he shows no signs of opening up. He doesn't believe he's worthy of anyone's care. Gods, Albus, can't I go and torture those stupid muggles? Just a little bit?"  
  
Albus' eyes twinkled.  
  
"It's fantastic that you are worried about Harry. I would keep persevering. I'm sure he will trust you fully by the end of his school time, but his confidence must be won gradually."  
  
He took another sip of his tea and Snape considered. He didn't want to leave the boy to follow any sort of self-destructive path, but on the other hand didn't want to drive him away with his worrying.  
  
Why on earth had he become involved with this?  
  
*********************************************  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa" drawled Harry, watching his feather flutter in the air above him. He was, frankly, bored rigid. It was marginally better than being in the Infirmary, but still hellishly boring. Especially since the teachers seemed to be trying to hamper his progress in any way possible.  
  
"Not so high, Mr Potter" reprimanded Flitwick, and Harry drew his feather down, seething inwardly. Draco shot him a sympathetic look and then swore as his feather floated out of the window. Harry stepped over and leaned over.  
  
"Accio feather" he murmered, holding his wand loosely between his fingers. The feather fluttered gently towards them as though caught on a breeze, and Draco winked at Harry before taking the feather back and closing the window.  
  
It was the third week running that they were working on levitation charms. Except for Hermione Granger who had moved onto summoning spells. Harry had been watching her and practising but he was still bored. He spent the lesson levitating his feather up and down, occasionally making Draco's chair lift a few inches when he was sure Flitwick wasn't watching. He was sure that he was growing a Slytherin streak a few times when he 'slipped' and levitated the red-haired Weasley up onto a candelabra. It had earned him a detention with Filch but he considered it worthwhile to hear the boy's high pitched squeaks.  
  
Smiling at the memory, he almost forgot that class was ending. As everyone filed out, he remained behind at Flitwick's desk.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Flitwick looked up, his face lined with worry.  
  
"I'm not Tom Riddle, sir. Please, don't hold me back. I came here to learn magic, and I honestly feel like I can go no further with levitation spells."  
  
The elderly wizard sighed and rubbed his temples.  
  
"I know, Mr Potter. Perhaps I was unjust. But you must understand. . .the worry, the panic that I felt. You cannot know the torture and grief that You-Know-Who caused; and I taught him. It is enough to prevent rational thought."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Learn about summoning charms" Flitwick finally conceded.  
  
Well, it was a start.  
  
************************************************  
  
"Harry? Harry, where are you. . .oh! What are you doing here?"  
  
Draco wrinkled up his aristocratic face at the Mudblood and tilted his head waiting for a reply. A petulant voice replied,  
  
"Potter and I were studying charms. And you are. . .?"  
  
He flushed; the stupid Mudblood knew who he was. Everyone did.  
  
"Harry, there's a meeting. Come on."  
  
Harry gathered his books up, nodded politely to the girl and left behind Draco. As soon as they were out of Madam Pince's domain, Draco glared at Harry.  
  
"What on earth were you doing with her?"  
  
"Talking about stuff. She gets more opportunity to learn than I do. The teachers aren't so biased against her."  
  
Draco nodded slowly.  
  
"Yes, but Harry. . .isn't there anyone else you can work with? I'll help if I can, it's just that. . ."  
  
"Just that what?"  
  
Harry's eyes were sharp, but Draco had to say this, had to make Harry understand.  
  
"Harry's she's half muggle. She doesn't belong in this world. Her blood is tainted."  
  
Harry flushed but his voice remained calm,  
  
"I don't care. She's the best witch in our year."  
  
"She's filth!" exclaimed Draco, and Harry fell back slightly. Feeling guilty, Draco forced himself to relax.  
  
"Harry, I'm sure she's very clever. But you can't be associated with her. Not if you're in Slytherin. You have to choose, Harry. Her or us. It's as simple as that."  
  
He stood in the corridor, suddenly looking lost which contrasted with his usual aloof demeanour.  
  
And Harry chose Slytherin, walking with Draco towards the common room. And inside the library, Hermione sat stunned at her desk, having heard the entire conversation, tears of rage and frustration running down her face. 


End file.
